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charles hamilton – you’re the man lyrics

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tell that nigga sit his jealous -ss down! i’m a better, bad clown. cl-ssroom slut, and his “hoes” (this hoe) put her head down. in the back of the cl-ss, like she was praying. catholic school! toppin’ me off, no delaying! and i ain’t talkin’ ’bout odelay-ing like beck. i’m saying. i’m od’in and i’m laying for some neck. this ain’t the season to be playing for respect. what year is it? c, and i’m playing for the check. d-mn. check, nigga. or, self-check. these niggas on the court ain’t get no help yet! steve nash on dreamcast. “he wasn’t there.” it’s not f-ckin’ fair! so, we go to ps3 (get it?) and i black!!! wait. i said that on some other cr-p i put out, and it was hot (to this date). nigga, i can ramble all f-ckin day because i can sample all marvin g-ye and…

you really got to prove
(if you can)…
i said, you gotta prove
that you the motherf-ckin’ man
i’m standing with juice
in my motherf-ckin’ hand
and even this juice
says i’m the motherf-ckin’ man…

c’mon and talk to me…

i see you noddin’ ya head
i gotchu noddin’ ya head!
i know you noddin’ ya head
’cause i can see ya!

and yeah, i wanna be ya. so when i say peace, it’s not an onomato- and a chick we used to go to school with. so, please bruh. please show me love, because i’m od growing up. so what i’m chopping? it’s something i adopted when trying to improve on my doctrine. got the motherf-ckin’ crowd of marvins saying “wow! this is retarded! this guy’s a martian!” yo, i’m wilding. i’m trying to be out the market. think outside the box? i think like the guy who signed the lox. when he first started smoking. don’t call me puffy. call me, “yo! i’m toking!” got windows open like alt. press anyone on the top, and i’ll talk. there’s only four to talk to so “march!” your -ss to the princ-p-l’s office. i’m a stalk

you really got to prove
(if you can)…
i said, you gotta prove
that you the motherf-ckin’ man
i’m standing with juice
in my motherf-ckin’ hand
and even this juice
says i’m the motherf-ckin’ man…

c’mon and talk to me…

yo. when it come(s) to the hoes (hose), i’m fdny. fda said i was sexy and fly. that’s a bold face lie. control b! now you can’t control bey! “hoe!” says i. “whoa!”, says i. don’t mean to call you a hoe, but please remember this (is) off that old head of mine. and i thought i had a midwestern accent. i’m a lying b-st-rd. now catch this! *sample* “you’re the ma-” catch 22, but i’m two years above it, so f-ck it. i’m rappin’ in the booth. and that’s the only thing that happens to be the truth. *belch* except for me belching this juice… hawaiian punch! gotta get a trip to hawaii. give my nigga some lunch. losing a little weight. with music, i can wait. i mean… i’m lying once again, so what’s my fate?

you really got to prove
(if you can)…
i said, you gotta prove
that you the motherf-ckin’ man
i’m standing with juice
in my motherf-ckin’ hand
and even this juice
says i’m the motherf-ckin’ man…

c’mon and talk to me…