| It’s all, it’s all becoming to clear to me
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| There appears to be something that you do not know about
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| Something about this music
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| Somn', something about this music
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| Still young but I’m old
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| Pursuing the truth in goal
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| Trying to produce from the soul
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| Backing me is a force, my greatest resource
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| So when you ride this rhyme you be the rhyme horse
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| This rhyme is a compass
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| Designating the direction of your mind as you want this
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| The dope beats don’t cease
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| Not for player haters
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| But the appreciators of what we release
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| Heavyweights will take a stand and show your flow is nice
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| They’ll pass the mic like Montana would throw to Rice
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| A prime from the mind to the wickedness
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| They ride on the dance floor like the Nicholas
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| Brothers, Tribe Unique discovers
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| Different ways, visually stimulating displays of movement
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| Groovy groovy slide, watch me do this step
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| Let’s see if you can vibe to how deep does it get
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| Emcees flowing deep and wide, deep and wide
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| Cali earthquake impact when me and the beat collide
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| Smack dab, dropping like a Reggie Miller clutch three
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| Leaving emcees saying «Fuck me»
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| Ooh, but don’t get vulgar just cause I provoked ya
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| You’re all vultures, our music is the prey
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| We do this every day
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| You swoop down in your six-four
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| Bumping ATU through alpines
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| But please, time’s down, dogs up
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| The Project Blowedians be the first to battle, that’s what you call guts
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| Caps peeled back by verbal weapon
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| You hear them tracks, feel back, you heard us flexin'
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| Manifestation, switch the station
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| To de-program the robots
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| The ones who Acey calls Knownots
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| Tell your whole block cause it’s the sure shot |