| Yea
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| This is a song called Attica Black
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| It’s a song about the mediocracy in mediocracy
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| And just, in general, the mediocracy in life
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| We hope you enjoy our presentation
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| Children gather round and let the rhythm buried in ya come alive with every
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| word I speak
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| It’s something that you really gotta feel to understand so bring a little bit
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| ganja with ya
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| I scurry through my tapes straight looking for escapes from the mediocracy
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| There’s gotta be stops gotta see how it ought to be not to be preaching but the
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| wack just ain’t dead yet
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| When you feel the funk inside ya
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| The inner soul is on its way
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| By the fire was I annihilatin' and breakin' em down
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| Was countin' and pointin' the mountain and I’m slayin' all the
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| To rule the industry instead of rhyming to be free you’re rhymin' to get over
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| losin' all the
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| So like the brothers in the prisons when conditions weren’t improvin' started
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| lootin' and the aunt said
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| And the aunt said
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| And the aunt said
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| Does anybody know what the situation is?
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| Do you know what we can do and what we can’t do?
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| We can’t say and what we can say? |
| I don’t know that anymore
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| I don’t have enough time to go and research all the laws
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| So I’m in the position that the only thing I can say about that is, «Fuck it»
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| Why’d you go and fall off and leave a motherfucker hanging on for some pawn
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| shit, but you’re butt as soft as some
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| You want ya props
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| As far as I’m concerned ya finished and we never want you back no mo'
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| Here to take the poor conditions listeners are listenin' within to a higher
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| plateau
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| Necessary dues to show our skills cuz there’s just something too important and
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| a fat bankroll
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| Wrecks well, neck swell from the thunder of the grooves in the headphone
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| Let’s bail to a place called Melodica where rhythm is a way of life and when
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| I’m at home Imma sing with the voice of a harp let our poems scurry free from
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| the death of a melody
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| Rhymes be compellin' me to take our crews to break out fools make out do’s and
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| don’ts and rules you won’t be able to front
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| I gotta be able to do what a rapper is able to do to give the people what they
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| want
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| I’m takin' my time and
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| I’m makin' it rhyme and I’m makin' it shine and I’m blowin' they mind and I’m
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| showin' hip hop and I’m doin' it every day
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| Takin' it, fakin' it, breakin' away all the blues
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| Ya know… Just tellin' it
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| Now I’m harder than a mother just singing this song
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| And keeping hella those smoke from the bong
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| Every little thing I do
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| And every little rap I do’s an opportunity to dine on your carcass
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| Dine on your carcass
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| Dine on your carcass I thought you knew that talk is cheap
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| So peep the unique chic—The beat raucous
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| You never heard before: words galore
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| I donor more for your pleasure madame
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| Miles to go, bro, so check out the flow so low no emcee can withstand the
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| momentum, bent 'em, pent 'em, sent 'em
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| Flip the song back and let’s start it all over again
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| Let’s start it all over again
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| I the blood
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| Who got whitey
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| I got the soul
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| Who got whitey
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| Black ain’t only beautiful—It's bad too
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| It’s fast, classy, name takin', and ass-kickin' good
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| I’m lookin' f' five B’s that say it ain’t true
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| Put your money where your mind is, come on |