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lyrics

They tried to tell me lightning don't strike twice, i'll prove it wrong
I'll hit you three times before I end this stupid song
When the fourth comes its gonna be the coup de gras
Like abortion, I don't see these kids at all
Grab a ladder
if it matters
bad to you rappers
I'm out of your reach
Jump,
Jump out of your seat
They'd have some battery acid splattered rather than battle me
Come count the receipt
This crowd wants a feat
I don't feel you like a paraplegic
guaranteed its therapy to let this out
don't care who sees it
now repeat
dead beat rocks a rhyme as if he wears adidas
its tricky to stop the high
but, swear you got to see this

They tried to tell me
They
They tried to tell me
They tried to tell me
they they
They tried to tell me
they tried to tell me
they they
they tried to tell me
they tried to tell me my future like the got a crystal ball

For twenty-five hours a day
for nine days out of the week
for fifty-nine weeks a year
four years straight
bout to hit the fifth
let me put it simply kids
i should be on ripley's list
its unbelievable
the styles like a comet causing craters in the people home
chronologically
time unveils the secret code
olly olly oxenfree
they screaming for a peek at joe
calling all hammers
spray canners
office jockeys talking to the boss holding day planners
grab the nearest speakers to you blast the beat
if you scared to let loose, please, after me

They tried to tell me
They
They tried to tell me
They tried to tell me
They tried to tell me
they tried to tell me
they they
they tried to tell me
they tried to tell me my future like the got a crystal ball

I can turn a stanza gold
I heard your shit
You sound like everyone else
style's Tony Danza old
I file down your bars
so I can fit my arm in
to rip your cells apart
mitosis coming, tell a guard
Hold your tongue in
or sell it hard
I've come to learn that you're the only one in this world who's in charge
Keep your girl in your arms
She's a pearl with those scars
Love every single one of them
I'm talking to you rappers on the swag train
Who know maybe y'all never had brains
We know you lying when you say you stack change
unless you talking nickels, quarters, dimes
In that case
make sure you do the math straight
now give it back, thanks
What you spit is half baked
More hooks than fisher but your verses really lack string
Hip hop? Ya'll don't know what that means

credits

from The Media Made Me, released November 10, 2016

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Deadbeat Brooklyn, New York

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