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That ain't peanut butter, I be on Nutella bitch
I'ma tell my daughter you ain't grown, bitch, you celibate,
I be industrializing on a level you ain't heard of since
the gilded age, or Vanderbilt or motha$@#)($* Edison.
I don't even know Au de Mare, niggas ridin' with tops peeled off?
What you know about a Molotov when the glass go crash and it ain't Mazletov?
In a cadillac, in the 1950's who hired blacks,
got a wire tap,
MC5000 I'm so live I jump on stage with a spinal tap.
I chill with ho's with gloss on their lips
I chill with women who got gloss on their lips
I chill with bitches who got gloss on their lips
And you know what they all got gloss on their lips
Can't a tell a bitch from a ho from a woman
Can't a tell woman from a bitch or a ho.
All I know is they all Love Love whether you give it to 'em fast or you give it to 'em slow
Metaphors Metafives, Metatens, Metanines
I explain the reasons why, nigga I don't rap I metarhyme
in Oklahoma I met a dime
a country girl she was mighty fine
James Harden you a bitch