| Back in the days, I never snatched pocket books
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| I just snatch ya mind up with the flow and the hook
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| That’s right, be on alert, coming faster
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| Corny mc’s, body snatcher with the rapture
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| Dismember ya body, like I was a raptor
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| Tuck ya eyes out, so you can’t see my laughter
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| Don’t care how many gold and platinum plaques you got
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| I put my foot in your ass, up in the spot
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| A beast break necks, that’s right, you couldn’t sit through
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| I’m bone crushing on the mic like a pitbull
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| Foamin' at the mouth, ferocious, to start again
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| Rockin' hardbody cardigen, with the timberlands
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| P.F. |
| drop the beat, Afu drop the grammar
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| Was swift with the gift, old school like cold bangers
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| The five mic slangin', head bangin', chitty chitty bang bangin'
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| Name your whole rap crew, like I’m gang bangin'
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| You ain’t no gangsta rapper, you’se an amateur
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| I seen you back in the days, they used to laugh at ya
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| You ain’t no gangsta, nigga, you just a poser
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| I grab the mic and do it like it’s supposed ta'
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| You ain’t no gangsta, nigga, you just a wanksta
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| I schooled you back in the days, you just a prankster
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| You ain’t no gangsta, rapper, you’se an amateur
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| I saw you back in the days, they used to laugh at ya
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| Am I brothers keeper? |
| Don’t get swept beneath the rug
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| Stomp these posers out, like they water bugs
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| Tired of these rappers, with these ice mugs
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| Clamining that they spitting slugs, but they spitting duds
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| Tired of these fake thugs, that’s lighter than feathers
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| With all that nonsense, they puttin together, screaming murder murder
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| I thought they would of learned from Biggie and 2Pac
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| That you can bring to life, what you spittin' in your art
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| You ain’t no gangsta, nigga, you’se a wanksta
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| I schooled you back in the days, you just a pranksta
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| You ain’t no gangsta, rapper, you’se an amateur
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| I saw you back in the days, they used to laugh at ya
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| It’s Mr. Spectacular, tacular
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| Bout to swat that ass out the sky like he gammara
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| The flex of ego, on your little pedestool
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| In front of your people, now what you wanna do?
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| You can’t stop this hard rock, rock, ready to rock this
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| I got lyrical ability, to bring ya hot shit
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| I swat so many cats, it’s raining birds
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| Cause I’m cold as ice, forget the ice in ya watch, kid
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| Spit more flames than the back of a rocket
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| Mic check, one-two, linin' up my targets
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| I be the mad man in front of the cam
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| That be stealing ya fans, yup, up on the red carpet
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| Make more connections than Nextel, ring the bell
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| On first connection, make ya fucking lips swell
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| Make more noise than a terrorist attack
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| I’m dangerous like anthrax, my voice burn up the wax
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| Against the way, I put my self up on the map
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| I’m a dope MC, I put the squeeze on the dope tracks
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| Body care free, on the dope tracks
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| A hundred round banana clip, leave you where you at |