| I’m sparked, waiting for the dark to hit
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| Cause when the moon gets above my apartment
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| I catch fits for starting shit
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| I’m smart with it, I give it that special touch when I push it Cause I’m also a label rep, and I can’t allow no bullshit
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| So shush kid, shush baby! |
| Shut your eyes
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| Lay your head back, shed the fear and let the tears crystallize
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| I wish the flies to land upon your forehead
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| When I extract the essence from your head
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| and leave your body resting Moorehead
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| I left more dead reputations than HIV kills
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| But for every killing there’s a reason and it’s not just MC’s, man!
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| I’m watching C-SPAN, waiting for the first state rep
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| To take the first step, to have to kill off to make this world perfect
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| Well lets get shit right, right here! |
| Right now! |
| Right away!
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| Atmosphere motherfucker! |
| If I need to I could fly away
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| I’ll grind you and your weak crew into beef stew
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| Serve you with seafood
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| You can’t glide by vision cuz you’re see-through
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| You need to recognize the size of the atlas
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| You ain’t as tall as half this — match this — past what you practice
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| Obviously you can’t fuck with my tactics, you bastard
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| Thats why you breath fast bitch — no need to ask
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| We dug the fingernails underneath the skin of your scalp, then peeled it Sent your underdeveloped pre-school style on a field trip
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| Now bite your tongue, this is how the mic gets stung
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| A whole tree to pick some fruit from, man!
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| You had to choose the ripest one
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| That said it all, it comes from inside, and how you ride
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| the sound wire when it’s live and the vibes feelin right
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| Catchin’the motion given by rhythms when you hit 'em on time
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| with lines, makin’sure your rhyme soundin’tight
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| Your voice should travel without the babble of the average emcee
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| so listen please use discretion when you breath
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| sound is vibration, I choose to use it with a vision
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| and then comes the style and precision…
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| No more longer will we hold your hands
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| Why? |
| Cause you’re too damn old
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| Oh yea, the network called
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| They told me to tell ya you’ve been cancelled
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| They also said big up for all the support
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| Thanks to your devotion, they now control the world
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| So let your hair down and eat the poison with a tall glass of Tang
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| I’m rising past the bang, with smile I’m flashin my fangs
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| I tumble over some, cuz some I don’t over stand
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| I got the crowd respond, from now on, I know the plan
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| It’s the noise it makes, that generates the passion I have
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| It’s the void it breaks, that stimulates when mics get grabbed
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| It takes shape — escapes from these vocal chords I have
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| Atmosphere: music makers from the Rhymesayers lab
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| Come now, (?) test the giants, when we apply this
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| Vice grips to your eyelids to make you read the fine print
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| The tyrants that gave you crisis, left you silenced
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| Don’t breath a sigh of relief 'till you hear the rescue sirens
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| Supreme, be this team, we got this shit on lock
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| Obviously we hit the gear under upscale rocks
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| So you could knock all you want to but you ain’t gettin’in
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| You could try to crash the door but you ain’t gettin’in
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| Nigga, what! |
| My definition is raw, I got you all
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| wishin’I’d fall, so things could get better for y’all
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| but I’m tall, and got game, remain the same for the duration
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| Area code 6−1-2, my present location…
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| Atmosphere… embellished with talent and the wisdom not abuse it Blessed with insight, friends and influences
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| Thats what keeps us dope, what makes us dope is the surroundings
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| Inspiration stems from love and stress compounding
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| Stamina: that is achieved over the course of time
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| in fact, time taught me how to breath, battle, not to court my mind
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| defined as lyricist — the Atmosphericist
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| makin sure you fear this hit every time you hear this shit
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| Sound is vibration
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| This sound is taken
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| Sound is vibration
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| And the ground is shaken
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| Vibration is sound
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| Yo, we found your replacement
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| Vibration is sound
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| Now who makes the sound?
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| : Now who makes the music/sound? |
| (*fades out*) |