| Once again
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| The Black Sheep are coming back at cha
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| And I am the fabulous Chi
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| And we gonna do it, uh
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| Some real freestyle stuff
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| For all the ladies and gents
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| So check it out, y’all
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| Kick it
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| It’s time, time, time for the freaker
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| To kick it through your speaker
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| For the b-boys and jameekahs
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| Contrary to popular, Sheep won’t play the pop
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| And, uh, if it comes to we, we won’t tell it to stop
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| Cause see, that’s what we do and I know for sure
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| That I’m a razor sharp-witted black entrepreneur
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| Me, y’all, nicer than your mother on your birthday
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| Getting mad attention like the planet does on Earth Day
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| Er-hm, speaking of which, ain’t it a bitch of a lesson
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| When they say you’ll miss your youth
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| Because I know you feel the stress when
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| Chaos, chaos, chaos! |
| is the headline
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| That means we’re near our deadline
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| So take your mind out of the fucking fed time
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| Listen to the brother Dres, I says if only our records sold in Brazil
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| Still, I sell all types of formats
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| A sound around that you heeded, when it’s completed
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| You can’t beat it, it’s what you needed: hip-hop
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| Hip-hop, it’s the cool type of sound that says the niggas won’t stop
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| The noise, cause sometimes can spawn so much confusion
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| I wish my people had the heart to start a revolution
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| Instead of picking on lil' ol' we
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| Put your mind where your nine’s at and shoot to be free
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| B, I’m like smooth soarer with the music out beyond me
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| And make moves with more strategal than the army
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| (Freak freak, y’all, and it don’t stop)
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| It’s Black Sheep on the street with sure shots
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| (Freak freak, y’all, and it don’t quit)
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| We make moves to the grooves with smooth shit
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| (Freak freak, y’all, said it don’t stop)
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| It’s Black Sheep on the street with sure shots
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| (Freak freak, y’all, yo it’s def sounds)
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| Black Sheep blowing up like a hooker laying down
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| I’m all about peace, peace, peace in this nation
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| But if she played me in the womb I give my mother complications
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| The nigga named Dres I raps like a gangsta bitch bandanna
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| Peep the grammar, I appeal like banana pudding
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| I couldn’t come if I couldn’t get it done
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| I might dine and dash, I don’t rhyme and run
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| I make it better than mo', my style is wetter than hoes
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| Than blasting H2O in the Fifties on negroes
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| Still, brothers of today are out to get it done
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| Don’t call us Bigger Thomas, we packs a bigger gun
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| The updated version of the Glamorous Life
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| Sees me, the Nineties negro that’s got a black wife
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| Believe me, clenching on a bag and acting cheesy?
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| Me settle with Edith, I’d rather chill with Weezy
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| Check it, I wreck it like a drunk driving wino
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| On a barbecue I’m getting crazy light like an albino
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| So follow the ceiling to the floor of the Apollo
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| Now swallow, with Franklins I’m catching lightning in a bottle
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| A phenomenon, whenever bombing I’m causing hysteria
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| I pick up the mic like the stage was the baggage claim area
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| Ticket, I kick it wickedly, I be Tiki tocking
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| Clocking, ripping all around your block
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| You’re jocking the brother named Tiki
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| Better be known I freak it every time I speak
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| On CD, vinyls, cassettes and, um, that’s the technique
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| I use, choose your choice and check it
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| I rips it on record, I wreck it when I rip it
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| The Sheep will resurrect it for all neglected
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| We had to intervene, Black Sheep back on the scene
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| I, I gotta work, y’all, gotta work real damn hard
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| Catch wreck and bust my ass so you won’t pull my card
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| Still so many try, I have to wonder why they
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| Play with two fly brothers that they can’t slay
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| I’m eager, anxious and I’m hungry to rip dubs like shrubs
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| Stressing every scrub in clubs across the country
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| Dres, I handle trauma like the plates in the vest
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| Drop a rhyme like a load shoots across a hooker’s chest
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| Best believe I be no stranger to static
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| Word to Reby, my centipede be automatic
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| So don’t do it cause, baby, hamburger won’t help ya
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| If Dres gets ghetto-life like wool blankets found in a shelter
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| Where niggas hairy like Chuck Norris, I gargle with Lavoris
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| Make it clear on the chorus like I was Edgar Morris
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| Yeah, I stomp for reason not for feeling
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| Cause one man’s floor is another man’s ceiling
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| Now when I was a child I did things as a child
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| But now that I’m a man I bust your ass and get wild
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| My style from jump, nowhere near fear
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| Yeah, y’all talked this to that, I held my head and persevered
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| Cause now the live wire empire expands
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| With grands of fans, Black Sheep by popular demand
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| So throw your hands in the air and let 'em free fall
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| And just freak freak, y’all
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| Freak freak, y’all |