| He has arrived, at the Apollo
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| Big. |
| Daddy. |
| Kane!
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| One two
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| Can I get a stand? |
| Can I get a mic stand?
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| A mic.
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| Aiyyo whassup y’all ready to party or what?
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| We gon' groove with this one tune for y’all.
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| Can I see the peace sign up in the air?
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| You know what this is?
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| The wrath of Kane, takin over your circumfrence
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| Destroyin negativity, and suckers that come with
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| The weak, the wack, the words, they’re poor
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| I thrash bash clash mash * Mister Cee scratch * and ten more
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| Blow up the scenery, I reign supremer, see
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| You need a savior to save ya, so lean on me
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| I’m playin rappers like a haunted ghost
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| And stomp em out like a watered roach
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| I slay my pray and they decay, I blow away and throw away
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| So go away, cause I don’t play
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| Attackin like a psychopath; |
| breakin rappers in half
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| So feel the wrath. |
| of Kane!
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| The man at hand, to rule and school and teach
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| And reach the blind to find their way from A to Z
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| And be the most, and boast the loudest rap
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| Kane’ll reign your domain! |
| (YEAH KANE!)
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| The heat is on, so feel the fire
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| Come off the empire, all the more higher
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| Level of def one step beyond dope
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| You suckers all scope and hope to cope but NOPE
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| Cause I can never let em on top of me
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| I play em out like a game of Monopoly
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| Let us beat around the ball like an Astro
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| Then send em to jail for tryin to pass Go
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| Shakin em up, breakin em up, takin no stuff
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| But it still ain’t loud enough
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| So Mister Cee let the volume grow
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| So I can flow, now yo
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| Juice Crew’s the family, Slick Rick’s a friend of me
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| And Doug E. Fresh, Stet', KRS and Public Enemy
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| Blase blah, you know who you are
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| The red black and green, the sun moon and star
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| Knowledge of Self, degree of twenty-one after
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| Peace in the name of I Self Lord and Master
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| I come to teach and preach and reach and each
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| With the speech every leecher I’m impeach
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| Drop science and build with math
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| And the dumb deaf and blind’ll feel the wrath, of Kane!
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| Marley Marl break it down!
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| Line by line, chapter after chapter
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| Like a pimp on the street, I got a rap ta
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| Those who chose to oppose, friend or foes I still dispose
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| Blow em out like afros
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| Too many rappers have fronted to get a name out
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| Yellin and screamin and jeerin but still came out
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| Off the wall as butter soft-er y’all
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| So you waited for Kane, to come after all
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| Competition, that bite and chew and crunch and munch
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| To play me out position, you on a mission
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| But stop lyin and tryin to front adventures
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| Your rhymes are more false than dentures
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| Freeze, as I get warm like a heater
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| Bite like a mosquito, but still can’t complete a
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| Rhyme or find the time to design a line
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| Or phrase that pays, so you down in rhyme
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| I get busy from sun to sun
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| Only twenty-one, untouched by ANYONE
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| No one throws, bangs or blows
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| All foes I keep em runnin like pantyhose
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| They got soft and tender, front and they’ll surrender
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| I turned off more lights than Teddy Pendergrass
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| Bring on the trial, war be my style
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| But when I’m in effect, they feel the wrath, of Kane!
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| Alright, pump your fists in the air like this y’all
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| C’mon let me see the fists in the air
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| C’mon y’all
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| And let me hear you say yeahhhAHHHHahhhh, c’mon
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| (yeahhhAHHHHahhhh)
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| C’mon now, yeahhhAHHHHahhhh, c’mon!
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| (yeahhhAHHHHahhhh)
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| Everybody, yeahhhAHHHHahhhh, what?
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| (yeahhhAHHHHahhhh)
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| YeahhhAHHHHahhhh, c’mon
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| (yeahhhAHHHHahhhh)
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| And say hoe-oh (hoe-oh) hoe-oh (hoe-oh) |