| I went to bed at midnight
|
| And the clock said 1, 2, 3…
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| Go 'head and close your eyelids
|
| And then tell me what you see
|
| Cause every word that comes through me
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| It was born in a nightmare
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| I met some old friends recently
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| They on a whole new frequency
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| I made some new friends the other day
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| But they was talking 'bout colorways
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| You can’t rock clothes like Kanye
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| Then go home with frozen entrees
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| Yo, Give me food truck tacos
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| Heavy sour-cream, no cilantro
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| Rap’s all post-modern
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| A bunch of style authors but no fathers
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| I stay familiar with my lineage
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| And spend a lot of time defending it
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| Yeah, I think I would’ve made a great panther
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| I used to be a break dancer
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| And I used to smoke a pack a day
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| But I got scared of the face cancer
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| I pray to god like Esther Rolle
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| That I’ll be blessed with some breath control
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| I went to bed at midnight
|
| And the clock said 1, 2, 3…
|
| Go 'head and close your eyelids
|
| And then tell me what you see
|
| Cause every word that comes through me
|
| It was born in a nightmare
|
| Yo, I want shag on my floor charred carpeting
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| And «Oh god,» singing four-part harmony
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| Go to the valley, get a manager
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| Who specializes in porn-star marketing
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| I wish every day was Halloween
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| I’d be Frylock from the Aqua Teens
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| Yo. |
| Why? |
| I don’t know why
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| Maybe to make the time go by
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| Maybe I got bats in my belfry
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| But if it was that, who could tell me?
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| You say the things that you overheard
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| I see the things that you don’t observe
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| The written life strictly synthesized
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| And tricks the eyes like lower-thirds
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| I see the future for city niggas
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| Gang-banging with samplers on midi-triggers
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| A different future for rural folks
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| Cause that will be where the tourists go
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| To take pictures of families with real-life first cousins, sisters and aunties
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| Yo, I got a heart like a Buick motor
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| And play my part like a super soldier
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| I got a mind like a steel toe
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| I be walking on my heels, though
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| The internet and the cable’s out
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| Man, I should go get a paper route
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| I went to bed at midnight
|
| And the clock said 1, 2, 3…
|
| Go 'head and close your eyelids
|
| And then tell me what you see
|
| Cause every word that comes through me
|
| It was born in a nightmare |