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This song is by Joey Bada$$ and appears on the Mixtape 1999 (2012).

You remember back in the days when you used to rocks waves and shit
When like... yo I had the fucking 360 my nigga
Like nobody in the hood was fucking my shit
And that's real shit

Since nine five, momma been working nine five
And I know the landlord fed up with our lies
So we pray to the Gods, the Jahs, and the Allahs
To keep us safe and watch our lives
Cause all we tryna do is do good
Put on my hood when I walk through hoods
Cause these niggas these days is loco
You'll get it in ya vocals if you ain't a local
Yeah, that's why I'm tryna go global
Yeah, that's why I'm tryna be a mogul
And I'm hopeful that me spittin' it soulful will have me in the Daily Postal
Flying coastal eatin tofu
Like I told you I know niggas who trash rappin'
Worried 'bout the trendin fashions rather than descendin' passion
They want me send 'em tracks but I just send 'em laughter
Right after I start laughin', they start askin "what happened?"
I'm back to the chapter
Momma told me follow dreams and never have to ask her, to
So that's what I do, became an MC master
Since then it's been a disaster for you and your favorite rapper
Go ahead ask 'em "Who is Joey Bad?"
Watch 'em grasp, asthma, damn it's so sad
He paused the chatter 'cause he know he rather back up
Than to admit the kid is hotter than magma
But fuck it, you gotta give credit where it's due
Cause you ain't gon' like the karma when it's set up on you
It can get you on your medical, fuck you up in the decimals
Or get you 2 to 3 for residue found it your retinal
And they told me not to be so complex
Dumb it down to accomplish articles in Complex
And The Source, alfredo of course
There I go again, steppin out of line, runnin' off course
I heard reports that it's like sexual intercourse
With your thoughts when I talk about the shoes in which I walk
For it is not faux, nor false that this kid from the north, speaks with forced supports of reinforced assaults
I'm sure by now you can assume he never lost
Unless it was some form of divorce, or a corpse
Born boss no days off, child labor
Let me see those in favor to spin that back like tornadoes

(Interlude: 2Pac Speaking)
What, what the rap audience ain't ready for, is a real person
You know what I wanna say, a real N-I-G-G-A. I'm comin' at 'em a hundred percent real. I ain't compromisin' nothin'
Anybody that talk about me got problems. You know what I'm sayin'? It's gon' be straight up like if I was a street person.
That's how I'm comin' at the whole world, and I'm bein' real about it and I'mma grow wit' my music

Yeah, but it's far from over
Won't stop till I meet Hova and my momma's in a Rover
Till I'm an owner of the world's finest motors
I blow like super novas in your daughter's room on a poster
Known as history's biggest musical composer
No disrespect to Bob Mar, yeah, another stoner
Marijuana my odor, and when I get older
Hope my spermatozoa from my scrotum intercepts an ovum
Like 3 times, have 3 kids, I hope
Me and wife can show 'em not to make the same mistakes you know that we did
I hope they acknowledge the knowledge 'cause yeah, they 'gon need it
'Cause when my fam tried to tell me, I just wouldn't receive it
Couldn't believe it, till I saw with my own pupils
Felt bad when I learned that the advice was truly useful
But fuck it, only made us as human beings more mutual
Even though over time, our punishments they grew more crucial
So use the word brutal, 'cause my parents mad strict
Hope one day I'll attracts the likes of even Madlib
Go call a mansion and hear my songs mastered
Until then, all I can do is imagine


I'mma make it all happen

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