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I'm just spitting, think I'm ghetto? Stop dreaming, my data's streaming I'm giving your bird them feelings, touch your toes then touch the ceiling We walk the tightrope of street cred Keep my dogs fed, all jungle, all garage heads Gold teeth, Valentinos and dreads now We were verbally slapped up, physically tip-top, spinally ripped up I do the science on my laptop and I get my boys mashed up