Songtext
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Intro: Ab-Soul
Turn the music up, turn the music up
(Python, where your tag at?)
Man
Yo, ayy
Man
Chorus: Ab-Soul
Hahaha
I was born underwater with three dollars and fifty cent
I'ma get rich or die tryin' to find a dime, huh
Verse 1: Ab-Soul
What goes around comes around, full circle
I'ma cut my own TV off before I go commercial
Huh, right in time for the revolution
I'm the new Gil Scott-Heron, double dare you to test the movement
Unless you prepared as hell to fail
Comparison is the thief of all joy
This is not a den you wanna lie in, don't even try it
'Less you're Soulo, ho, the prophet
Damn, Daniel
I mean the Vans Off-White like Virgil had somethin' to do with it
It's gettin' easier than shootin' fish in a barrel with all this bait I set
Shit, they gettin' desperate for restitution
Do the damage I do to amateurs
Who never cease to embarrass us
This shit been rigged since the Pilgrims hit the Americas
Motherfuckin' opportunists
Who literally made a killing, maiden Thanksgiving
And John Smith sold Pocahontas into prostitution
Chorus: Ab-Soul
Hahaha, bitch
I was born underwater with three dollars and fifty cent
I'ma get rich or die tryin' to find a dime
Verse 2: Ab-Soul
Went from splittin' optimals with NFL's lil' bro
Tryna snatch the durag off of King Rich head
With Legend in the Solara, bumpin' J.R. Writer
Or Ghetto Fabolous, in the suburbs in an ave labyrinth
Beats in a beaker, uh, I mean a speaker
To traveling internationally
Due to the craft that I mastered passionately
The Black Lip Pastor (Ayy)
Casted out of the pasture for
Happening to be a black sheep, baa
That's all, my flipper's cracked
That's all I— yeah
Outro: Ab-Soul
Expeditiously
You smoke crack, don't you?
Soul
I'm sorry, big bro
I'm so sorry
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