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zuò qǔ : Greenwood, Morely |
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Intro: |
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Yeah huh what |
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Alright cool |
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Yeah huh what alright yeah what what, uh uh |
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M. A. N. A FESTO, exposing light, and take aim what yeah |
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Verse I |
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Another cold night 360 flip swiftly down six hit me, is she busy? |
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I' ll call her afterPass a Snapple, and a camera angle, |
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ledge vandal can' t break my ankles |
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I' m on point, but we' re running cops are fronting, |
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wanna stop something you loving, |
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I' ll pray about it |
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Ill maneuvers over sewers with back packs, |
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and curved hat attachments freestyle my stats no accidents, |
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Imagine that no security no Cops! |
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Visualize ill' s ciphers every corner block. |
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I never sold rock or bust glock |
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My walk talks it' s own, I like to lick tones in your head phones |
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So what' s the purpose to live life to the fullest |
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I serve Christ so I don' t watch for bullets, |
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Just live how I wanna respect heaven spit lava, |
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street philosopher raised up in Canada |
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Chorus |
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M. A. N. A FESTO exposing light, and take aim what come on |
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M. A. N. A FESTO exposing light, and take aim what come on |
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Verse II |
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Exposing Light manafesto down town in the metro |
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fill my car up with petro, |
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I best go, I' m already late, |
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they call me speedy so I' m easy on the breaks |
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What' s up yo, cool man chilling, |
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I' m dealing with this girl, yo man she' s Illing |
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I learned to separate the girl from the rhyme, |
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and skate sometimes my mind escapes lock it down to meditate |
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Concentration it' s a full occupation thought invasion, |
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it' s like my God verses Satan |
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Excuse me why I' m doing this |
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to influence kid' s students of all ages all races |
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Give this rap scene a face lift dive inside my minds matrix |
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new school Christ Patriot |
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What I stand for the one they hold the banner for |
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I came with a board sword plus a stack of metaphors. |
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Chorus |
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M. A. N. A FESTO exposing light and take aim, what, |
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M. A. N. A FESTO exposing light and take aim, what come on |
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Hun yeah what alright cool cool, what yeah huh alright |
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Verse III |
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This world almost had me kidnapped me |
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back slapped me in the back seat choked me till I can' t speak, |
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I get up, and pull my head up develop my style |
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I never swell up from the neck up I rock, |
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Heavy metal to street styles in ghettos my dress code apparel is big on paths narrow, |
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Barely made it out, my mentals a cracked house, |
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I find myself passing out asking God for help |