I got a 6-4 wit' 4 wheels of chrome, I got a platinum necklace and Texas home that looks phat, I carry a gat and all that to define where my bank account's at, it don't mean much cause my spirit is empty, I simply try to fill it by livin' wealthy, I got an unhealthy outlook cause the route took, plus a brown book tellin' me what was trendy, I guess that I'm destined to follow the best trend, surrounded by a group of bodyguards and the yes men, but that was a freshman mistake for a piece of the cake not knowin' that my soul's what it takes, the world's full of fakes, and everybody rates their own by keepin' up with the Jones until we're cousins and clones, lookin' the same, searchin' for fame, losin' the game, identical but answerin' to different names
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