| What I write in a verse is like magic tricks, Copperfield
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| Grab your chick, cop a feel
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| Cock the Glock for real, give you some cop appeal
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| Dynamite vest, na I ain’t stressing nothing
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| With a smiley face sticker on my detonator button
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| Haters ask, «Is he bluffing or is he bugging?»
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| I don’t know but I don’t fuck with weed with the seed stuffing
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| What I blaze gets me oh so higher
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| Burn more white widow smoke than an old folks home on fire
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| I make change cha ching
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| I can hang a playground from a charm you should see the way my chain swings
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| You got the balls to diss? |
| Won’t have 'em afterwards
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| 'Cause when I rap, contenders get killed, after all my words
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| I’m tired of all you rapping nerds trying to critique my shit
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| Like I ain’t the motherfucking master of the baddest verbs
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| Celph Titled and the AOTP alliance will travel back in time
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| Smack ya, have your baby teeth flying
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| I am Rob Zombie, I am the Omni of dishonesty
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| I’m a prodigy, an atrocity
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| Not a lot of promise in me
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| Positively not a drop of modesty
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| My philosophy is the policy
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| I believe in nothing
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| Try teaching a beast peace and loving
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| Juggling, my beliefs need readjusting
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| My life was sticks and rocks
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| Kick, punch, block
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| It was not a box of butterscotch and shuttlecocks
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| I have filled a pot of mud, spilled a lot of blood
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| Watch the drops drip and flood, hit the top stud
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| I have crashed a lot of waves, dug a lot of graves
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| Drunk a lot of grapes, I have fucked a lot of babes
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| I’m do not disturb, I have punched a lot of nerds
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| Struck a lot of curbs, I have cut a lot of curves
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| You are none of the above, push come to shove
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| You’re all mother fucking puppy lovin' country clubs
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| Y’all motherfuckers ain’t running shit, y’all simply runaways
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| I walk the surface of the sun while you’re rocking stunner shades
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| I’m in Hell shoving flames while you’re sweating summer days
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| I’m the son of Satan, son of Sam, sicker some’ll say
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| Got a flow so cold that I could blow the sun away
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| Even if I kick a free someone still gonna pay
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| You could get blasted, body in a funeral casket
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| And cops searching for deoxyribonucleic acid
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| Slay the fascists, Pharaoh fans pray for classics
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| Come through in Raiders jackets to make this magic
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| I’m a holy man, Voodoo priest, rebel that’ll shoot police
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| You wake up from this nightmare and change your little doodoo sheets
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| Skeleton, crusher creature from the cryo-chamber
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| The naughty, nasty, trashy microphone annihilator
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| It’s AP apparently you motherfuckers missed me
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| Some dude tried to diss me, now that kid’s history
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| Now this is a misery, I heard it needs company
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| Who the fuck else want to bleed in their Dungarees?
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| Planetary man, the evil rap Desert Eagle
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| Clap all your people get ready for the sequel
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| Needle set to vinyl, now it’s time for your final thought
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| What’s your last wish? |
| You’s a minor fine in court
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| Twenty five to life, rap electric chair
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| Spit a sicker syllable, nigga slash like the slayers hit you
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| Get the picture, this a Kodak moment
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| Mo 'Yak flowin', pussy, bet your throwback on it
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| I’mma break bread only if the bread ain’t stale
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| Take young niggas to school, I heard school like jail
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| This is punishment government shit that you fucking with
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| Esoteric, I told him in «Swords Drawn» and «Dump the Clip»
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| Hear the «Battle Cry» piling up the dead solders
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| Know to «Tear it Down», we get it down, the blood runs colder
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| After drive-by, hop out the wheel like caged hamsters
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| Rage amped up, hammer time without the stage dancers
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| I really doubt we’re killing it the same
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| I’m Magic before retirement, illest in the game
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| Diligently aim at targets without the Pizza Hut express shit
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| Put 'em in a long box like bread sticks
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| Then dip marinara or garlic, Marijuanacaholic
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| Carry arms like your sidekick, shoulder hold to drop kick
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| Your show’s supposed to be mosh pits; |
| it’s only known for obnoxious
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| Knowingly holding most of them hostage
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| Know I’m close to the top ten, Coka Nostra and Rakim
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| Roast the most of the Pac shit
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| Overdose for the profit
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| Hold him over don’t drop him, watch this
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| Nonsense and don’t slow up the process
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| Hate on my project, lay you unconscious
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| Screaming on the phone like you won a radio contest
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| The only fucking thing I love is my long knife
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| The .45 cal click pow, put you on ice
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| Before the devil know you dead you should call Christ
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| All I hear is barking out of y’all, a real dog bites
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| If you wanna split the tribe you should call Phife
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| I’m the real father of creation of God’s life
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| LeBron in the beginning of the game, yeah I toss white
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| Calm at the beginning of the pain, Dalai Lam-like
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| Then I put your fucking brain in a strong vice
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| Eat your liver over fava beans and some warm rice
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| Y’all motherfuckers head cracked like I toss dice
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| Vinnie taking all your money like a divorced wife |