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That's what I'm talking about This is what I'm talk-- This is hip-hop Locksmith in the buildling I told y'all I got you stuck off the realness I spit nothing but street Step to this, you're good as gone, word is bond 'Cause I don't need gimmicks I got you stuck off the realness You better ask somebody Word is bond, I go on and on Locksmith Look Young fella, umbrella Locked in his closet so the rain comes hella Harsher than expected, neglected, he's got a chipped shoulder His big brother is locked up and he's not sober Started smoking at age ten, sipping at thirteen It's hard to admit, but he's a hurt teen He's hurting but he buries it in aggression He started rapping, that's the natural progression It's more about the melodies and less about the lyrics The content, drug, money, and b*t*hes The flow never switches, the beat never falters He's got a passion like the preacher at the altar Stealing from his mother, she barely pays the rent And the church wanna take ten percent? Community division, and now he's faced with decisions, yeah
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