| You find an MC like me who’s strong
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| Leavin motherfucker’s aborted, with no verbal support
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| And when I command the microphone I gets deadly as Kahn though
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| With a bear and a snake and a panda, I’m on those
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| Who can withstand, the mo’power I gain
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| and make it possible for me to drop a few to wreck ya brain
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| Imagine and keep on wishin upon a star
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| Finally realizing who the fuck we are
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| When I penetrate, it’s been withstandin, faded
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| would it be the greatest MC of all time
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| When I created rhyme for the simple fact
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| When I attack I crush your pride
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| My intention to ride, every time all night
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| I’m faced with the scars beyond this one bar
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| for me to put down my guard, I’m faced with it, I’m a ride
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| breakin in gas with the six-eight all day
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| In and out with my pay
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| I’m soon to count the bodies…
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| Verse Two: Tupac
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| So mandatory my elevation my lyrics like orientation
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| So you can be more familiar with tha nigga you facin
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| We must be based on nothin better than communication
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| Known to damage and highly flamable like gas stations
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| Sorry I left that ass waitin
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| No more procrastination give up to fate, and get that asss shakin
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| I’m bustin and makin motherfuckers panic
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| Don’t take ya life for granted put that ass in the dirt
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| You swear the bitch was planted
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| My lyrics motivate the planet
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| It’s similar to Rhythm Nation
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| but thugged out, forgive me Janet
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| Who’s in control I’m acvtivatin yo souls
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| You know, the way the games get controlled
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| Yo, two years ago, a friend of mine
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| Told me Alize and Cristal blows your mind
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| Bear witness to the dopest fuckin rhyme I wrote
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| Takin off my coat, clearing my throat
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| Chorus: Method Man
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| I got my mind made up, come on…
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| get in get in too
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| let it ride tonight’s tha night
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| I got my mind made up, come on…
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| get in get in too
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| let it ride… tonight’s tha night
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| Verse Three: Kurupt
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| Well I comes through with two packs
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| of the bomb prophalaks for protection
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| So my fuckin sac won’t collapse
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| Cause nowaday’s, shit’s evading the x-rays
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| Sending young motherfuckers to an early grave
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| I wonder, if my terrifying tactics of torturing MC’s
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| shows my heart’s as cold as the tundra
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| Electryfing like thunder, I’m just too much
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| Rough and raw with that motherfuckin poisonous touch
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| I’m an MC with lyrics that’s tha fuckin bom-bay
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| Ya got dissed, that’s before it’s ingest like balmay
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| My rhymes, I leave a mark on ya mind
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| As the deadly vibes spread through ya head like sand pine
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| There’s no escape, nah I ain’t blastin
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| I use my mental to assassinate assassin’s for those askin
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| Opposed to laughin, raw maniacal villian
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| Laughter enhances the chances of tha killin
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| Why is that? |
| Cuz smilin faces decieve
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| You best believe, to MC’s I’m the deadliest disease
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| My thoughts rip ya throat and make it hard to breathe
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| Ya whole camp’s under seige, and I’m Jason Vorhees
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| In the heat of the night is when I defeat and ignite mikes
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| My verbal snipe, your vocab on site
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| I’m out tha cut, uncut and raw with no clause for all
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| So all my rhymes hit and split tha bricks on the wall
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| Ya already have an idea about tha superior sphere
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| The greater rhyme creator on both sides of tha equator
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| I rock from here to there, to Philly and back
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| To LA on the spot where I rock and bust like straps
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| As your views get overshadowed when you come in contact
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| Beware, set and prepare to enter verbal combat
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| Verse Four: Method Man
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| Fuck you losers, while you fake jacks I makes maneuvers
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| like Hitler, stickin up wit german
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| The Mr. Meth-Tical from Staten Isle
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| Will be back after this mess-age don’t touch tha dial
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| Rarely do you see an MC out for justice
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| Got my gun powder and my musket -- blaooow!
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| Melons get swellings, I paint mental pictures like Magellen
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| Half of my Clan’s three deep felons
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| Niggaz best protect they joints for Nine-Nickel
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| Man I stay on point like icicles
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| Now who wanna test Tical then touch Tical
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| All up in your motherfuckin mouth
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| Head banger boogie
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| Catch me on tour with Al Doogie
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| Method Man roll too tight, you can pull me Better take one and pass or that’s that ass
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| Your vital statistics are low and fallin fast
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| Johnny Blaze out to get loot like Johnny Cash |
| Play a game of Russian Roulette and have a blast
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| Verse Five: Redman
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| Aiyyo, lyrical gas spittin tha criminal tactics
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| Non-believers get my dick and genitals backwards
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| Let’s face it, there’s no replacement
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| Taste this, mad underground basement, shit I’m laced with
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| Avalanche on ya whole camp when I’m splifted
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| Funk Doctor who? |
| Spock bitch don’t get it twisted
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| I got connects like Federal Express
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| to get the fresh package of bless, tha dogs can’t fetch
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| Got the clear spot from tha rear block
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| to bust til every nigga here drop, men I fear not
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| Hold ya nose and blow out til ya ears pop
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| Since ya crew suit you to shift now you claim that you get’s lot
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| With, this underground cannabis
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| I’m dangerous like John the bomb analyst
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| Then proceeds like keys
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| My degrees freeze consecutively like EPMD LP’s
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| Lick off a shot and hit ya fam by mistake
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| So I erase the whole front row at the wake
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| I planned my escape in case jake or a snake bust it
|
| I’m the one pushin the hearse in the first place
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| Confidence for you shaky ass folks
|
| Pump for Rockafella for the day he got smoked
|
| choke, off this anecdote got you ope
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| Get roast, by my lyrics Billy Dee .45 Coly
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| And I’m out for nine nickel |