| Yes, as we continue to get it going on
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| Artifacts representin from Newark to Illtown
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| Put your ear to this here
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| Most definitely it’s a sure banger
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| Keep this one in your collection
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| Newark to Illtown representin
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| Who do we have up to bat? |
| (MC El)
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| Lace that
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| Verse One: El the Sensai, Tame One
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| In this field, niggas get killed, quick with the skills
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| Intact, ill with raps, buildin facts to fill
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| Gaps react, tap into your internet and patch into
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| My steez or my style, niggas down to make the cheese wild
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| MC’s get defused cause I’m the bomb specialist
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| With the wettest, test this, deadly like asbestos
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| Check the credit set it, so odd they have to call a medic
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| My paragraphs be off key, that’s why niggas can’t get it
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| For those of you who don’t know, my flow keeps MC’s
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| On freeze like Sub-Z doin MK3 fatality
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| Do remember like Clue, I run up on booty crews
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| On every weekend buggin out cause I be geekin
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| Lounge like the peppermint the Boom Skwad President
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| Leaves a tenament resident finding evidence of sedatives
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| DAILY, scoopin through the Roots like Alex Haley
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| Beetle Bailey beatdown to a soundman lookin scary
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| Label secretary terrorizer yet I’ma
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| Fresh rhymer comma bringer of the drama the bomber
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| From the Lost Lands, off hand claps I run raps
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| And shatter nigga cyphers into pieces like gun claps
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| «When I break it down, from Newark NJ to Illtown» -- Rockafella*
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| Verse Two: El the Sensai, Tame One
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| My verbal, patterns reach farther than Saturn
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| Bustin niggas up because my rhymes be breakin
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| Atoms stranger, ProForm arranger
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| Fake U-SA Polo shirt stainer with the tec that’s never plainer
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| Indent, that’s the men blend trends we make and cross
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| Without the fakin, to the ten niggas respect we just take it
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| New jacks relax cause the syntax can’t be Xeroxed
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| Cause I be locked on spots like niggas movin in from swat
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| I X more Men out than Elijah, Muhamm Ali of rhyme schemes
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| Leavin my stickers at the crime scene
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| Skwad Odd Man, receive response like Roxanne
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| Battle the top man, and shock fans like I’ma rock band
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| I cut the mustard and plus I can bust it dusted (what?)
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| Whatever you fuckin with I touch and leave it busted
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| My click rips and gets up in ya like the shits
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| From grits, while yo shit sits like it’s on bricks
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| Tracy Chap raps I laugh at, half-assed rappers
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| Who lack fat tracks get capped at, fuck that
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| Destroy the masses, niggas in classes tryin to catch the math
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| As I sit and think the ink begins to craft
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| My blueprints instruments workin as I’m jerkin
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| Your style hurtin in the club your crew nervous rehearsin
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| In between the cut I run amuck with mad stuff
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| Niggas can’t touch, escape wack cyphers like handcuffs, so
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| C’mon and get down with that Artifacts sound
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| «When I break it down from Newark NJ to Illtown»
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| «When I break it down, from Newark NJ to Illtown» -- Rockafella*
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| Outro: Mellow Max
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| Word up thank you I think I’m convinced
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| Cool Mellow Max in the house
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| Peace to my niggas Park Ave, Swift-O-Matic yeah!
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| Boom Skwad in the house how you like it now?
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| Representin the skills, what?
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| Chancellor Ave, Avon Ave, nigga where ya at?
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| Aww man the Bricks! |
| Newark to Illtown
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| If ya don’t know I think ya better ask
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| Breakin it down, sizin it up
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| For the year nine-six, WHAT!!! |