| Revenge of the Iron Fingers
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| 9th Prince, Terrorist shit, nigga
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| Check it yo yeah yo yeah yo yo
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| We keep it real, hold steel, grab ya sword and ya shield
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| Terrorist and 9th Prince it’s either kill or be killed
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| Yo we train snatchers, capture fifty-seven passengers
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| It’s the last chapter, the underworld scavengers
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| Thuggish dark shadows, stick and move like Apollo
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| Mass test the acid they swallow, born to be street desperados
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| Like Castalano, these niggas is wicked like the witches of Eastwick
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| Dirty referee sick shit, kill or be killed is the topic
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| Then I’ll be a serial killer, hidden murder scriptures
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| For the armageddon mafia, Stapleton shell shockers
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| Saddam and Terrorist, we tag teams like the midnight rockers
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| Put you in a wrestling move, kill ya crew
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| 9th Prince is raveshing like Rick Ru'
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| I attack the Billboard like Hurricane George (yeah)
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| Niggas is microphone frauds (yo)
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| The death wish: kill the rest of the foreign lords
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| (yo yo yo)
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| High street vocalist, get a toke on this
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| Try and wrestle with the bulk of this, you just provokin' this
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| Terrorist when pissed is like The Exorcist
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| Make you slit ya wrist, choose ya death wish, let me insist
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| In the procedure, the only language is thru ya speaker
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| My tongue is fire, breath is the flame, lyrics are ether
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| Build boy, heat seeker, blow the shit out ya tweeter
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| In the lab constructin' rhymes to put ya ass in the sleeper
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| Grab my millimeter, call me a cheater, ya easy bleeder
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| Terrorist and 9th Prince is the underground leaders
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| Lyrics for days, splittin' my current seven ways
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| Rest in the PJ’s, countin' my grays, I’m goin craz'
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| I pulled the budget, these record execs is fuckin' sufferin'
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| Give me a couple mil' by the year 2G just off my publishin'
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| Records are bubblin', my team is strugglin'
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| Don’t forget, kill or be killed, the album comin'
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| Yo revelation nation, kill on occasion, sick of patience
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| My visions is diabolical like Wes Craven
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| Genetic verses, streets is cursed
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| Tales of terror in ya area, twenty million miles to Earth
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| Genocide a century, Apocalypse peniteniary
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| Computer convicts, the final conflict
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| 9th Prince is too intelligent to speak ebonics
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| Shocky, but brain waves electronic
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| Microphone addiction, philosophy crusifiction
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| Prince Saddam crusified all competition
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| He moves like a swordsman on a horse
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| Bloody verses leave blood stains of Verbal Intercourse
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| Floss, like diamonds all up in the cross
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| The title is kill or be killed and you just fuckin' lost
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| That’s the laws, yeah.
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| Terrorist and 9th Prince, check the sequence
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| Y’all niggas must be dense
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| There ain’t no defence for this offence
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| Tryin' to pay the rent, nigga
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| Yeah. |