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True Stories
by
Billy Woods
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It be the same excuses, every time It be the same excuses, every time It be the same excuses, every time It be the same excuses, every time Old dog, new tricks Lied through the teeth like toothpicks Not one to face the music, just gave it a crude mix If I'm in, the game fixed Shifted blame, hedged all bets Did my part Left under cover of dark Smart from the start, that nigga was building an arc You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows Over coffee and doughnuts, told them everything they wanted to know Hey bruh, you know how it goes If you didn't now you know all too well Why you mad son? Do tell [Hook x7] Talk a good one but you right, I don't want it Not for nothin, first line of the sonnet Talk like you never got you a shot Nah nigga you f*cked up a lot Set my watch off you f*ckin up True stories Op Tower of London plots Say what you will but I always aim for the top Need a fixin to come around the old block But nostalgia ain't my bag Richard the Third with the words I took a drag Crushed a roach on the curb Cabs flagged Gotta get up pretty early to jerk me Whitey grinned as he took the briefcase Said he never went to sleep in the first place
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