| The kiss of death on a rap pick
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| Then you get a slap quick, so guard it with Chapstick
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| In other words, protect and hold your own
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| It only takes one punch to get head flown
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| Fists of fury, suckers get buried
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| Cause the Kane got more spice than curry
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| I am the flavor down on paper
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| And nothing could save ya, from catchin the vapors
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| Rhymes that’ll sting your face like a quick jab
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| And I’m rubbin em in just like Vicks say I’m
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| Captivatin', dominatin', innovatin', illustratin', fascinatin'
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| Motivatin', elevatin', terminatin', mutilatin'
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| Rhymes they’re worth their weight in
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| Gold, bold, never sold to a bidder
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| That claim to glitter, you’re so bitter like kitty litter
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| As for damage, don’t tell me what another do
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| Cause I quote that I’m R-A-W
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| So make room, cause fighters are doomed
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| Try to consume, and make your own tune
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| A grave from a casket, a tisket a tasket
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| You’re rhymes out of basket, boy you get your ass kicked
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| For frontin like you hittin hard
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| When your arms are too short, to box with God
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| So don’t even touch cause I come with too much
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| Address and bless any mic that I clutch
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| And for a rapper to challenge my freestyle
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| He must be senile, and that’s why meanwhile
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| Back at the ranch…
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| There goes the asiatic chosen one that’s expandin with a new branch
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| So many slept on the nonchalant act
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| Now wake up sucker this is mortal combat
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| «you say daddy I don’t want none…» --] Kool Moe Dee
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| I seize and freeze MC’s with these degrees
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| Put me to my knees, or at ease, chillllld please
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| I break it down, to bring on the next act
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| Rappers are so full of shit, they need Ex-Lax
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| So stop griffin, your mind is driftin
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| Prepare yourself cause I get swift and
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| Captivate the crowd but you can’t understand
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| At times I gotta say to myself, «God damn!»
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| As I get hot, and still be gettin warmer
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| And I don’t have beef with no other performer
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| Keep to myself never bother another
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| But if a rapper tries to diss I crush the motherfucker!
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| Frontin MC’s that be tryin to rip
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| Need to save it, and don’t even play with
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| Me when I react like a volcano eruptin
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| I step to you and say, «Now what’s up?» | 
| then
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| Every word’ll be just like surgery
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| Cuttin you open so rush to emergency
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| Or even bow to your knees and below
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| Or get played like a game of Nintendo
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| J-O-K-E-S ain’t my style
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| I ain’t a child that’s why I don’t smile
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| I combine a line designed to find behind the mind
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| So devine the other rappers resign
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| As I go on, from night to morn
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| Beginning to end, from Knowledge to Born
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| Whenever rappers are lookin for static
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| Looks like a job for King Asiatic
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| An-y, send-me, competitors
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| Then again, it might just be better to
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| Just slow down you don’t wanna throwdown
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| I get busy, get you dizzy like a merry-go-round
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| Feel the wrath of a Big Daddy duel rhyme
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| And competition, prepare for wartime
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| Be alert for where I drop the bomb at
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| As I destroy you with mortal combat
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| «you say daddy I don’t want none…» --] Kool Moe Dee
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| I roll so bold with soul control the whole patrol
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| Of folders molders towin black gold
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| So let it be said, let it be read
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| Cause I lead ahead, of others who rhymes are old as Pro-Keds
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| Tryin to diss the Big Daddy repetoire
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| Moi?
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| You steady screamin out a antique segment wrote
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| As I just play em like a pregant roach and STOMP EM
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| For tryin the forbidden
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| Your rhymes ain’t hittin, boy you won’t be gettin
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| None of, or in front of, cause every one of
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| My adversaries, lack, you little son of
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| O-bit-uary columns will read your name
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| If you ever try to step to the Big Daddy Kane
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| So any claimin or aimin to be champion
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| Against me? | 
| Psssh, can’t be one
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| I rank supreme and it’s a rapper’s dream
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| To scheme and fiend for my technique but redeem
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| Cause there’s only room for one teacher
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| Wise words from a wise man’ll reach ya
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| I teach freedom, justice, and equality
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| Peace to the brothers and sisters and follow me
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| Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours
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| Slaves, from mental death in power
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| That’s the reason before I drop this bomb
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| I say peace to the Nation of Islam
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| («Make you say» (6X) «daddy I don’t want none…») --] Kool Moe Dee
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| («Make you say, say, da-daddy I don’t want none…»)
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| («Make, ma-ma-make, make you say daddy I don’t want none…»)
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| («Make you say» (6X) «daddy I don’t want none…») |