| Homeboys take time and elevate your mind
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| We came to rock the spot, rock the spot
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| Homegirls inside just let your nature rise
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| We came to rock the spot, rock the spot
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| Now Gabby got the verbal that’ll get your little wifey out her girdle
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| in a session with me lightn’up a little herbal
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| Turtle shell
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| chool individuals that listen to me word it well
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| Given to the rapper who is livin through, be heard and held
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| in a high esteem
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| I get you drunker than your bourbon, ale, liquor, malt, my assault learned it well
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| Turn the tables of time with my perception
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| Building staples of rhyme hear my reflections
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| on a little life I’m livin in a universe with no beginning to it so it ain’t an ending and at times I get to diggin into infinite subliminably
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| spirited
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| a nigga with a clip and send it rip __ __ __
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| Indigenous stork has just touched ground
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| Rappers organizations get shut down
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| Not that I don’t wanna see my brothers succeed
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| but rap its like a sport, I dominate, so follow my lead
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| I be the G-I-F-T test me hefty left’s be gettin’swung
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| cruise like a jet ski
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| Up in yo apartment and plop on your couch y’all
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| Undisputed heavyweight lyrical southpaw
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| It’s like a lime to a lemon-that rhymes, I assemble them
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| at times when I’m ____ they shine you remember
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| _____ divine forces ____ that refine men &women &
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| I rhyme for a livin', not just for the __ __
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| That isn’t what it’s all about, really now, valid clout
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| Uzi mc’s I have arguments n’fallin’outs wit'
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| about what it’s all about, ain’t about foamin out the mouth
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| like a walkin tall can of Guinness Stout
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| when the battle cries soundin'
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| ding-ding, hit 'em like, bing-bing
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| eat 'em like, B-King, yet wit’no seasoning-bee sting
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| wich yo girl dressed in a g-string she’s swingin'
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| my way shorty and it sure looks good
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| I’m cookin up a batch of dopeness like a good cook should
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| I be the jack of trades, rappers pray
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| that I don’t decapitate, after they cash his ass
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| is that an irate? |
| Great!
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| Grade-A, top-choice lyricism
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| Hey, hit me wit’that shell shocked rhythm
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| One time fo’the funky rhymes I say
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| two times for the beat and for my DJ
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| it don’t stop
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| I say we drop it on a (one), we drop it on a (two)
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| We comin’out (fresh), and we do it (for you)
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| You know the deal with Blackalicious, we don’t play
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| (from New York, NY) (to streets of LA) to (???)
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| you know we leave the party wreakin’a disaster
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| for the new millie, rain like a shower
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| let it seep in your pores (???)
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| Oh lord that’s (~scratch~)
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| Rock ya from the top and to the bottom (from the bottom to the top)
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| (cause I grab the mic) wit the intent to get ill
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| a natural that you know who is (still Mrs. Field’s)
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| So slide to the side and (take it light) and (???) all night (party people in the place…)
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| I make 'em suffer, to the fallen mc’s I’d be the (quicker pickem upper)
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| (galactic of a nebula)
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| I’m rappin the spectacular, attackin whack amateurs n’back stabbin salamanders
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| Creepin while I’m peepin on 'em (party time)
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| Before I used to hit the meetings it was (Thunderbird wine) (used to drink the
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| Ole)
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| now I drink Calistoga, sober and I’m older
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| but the world is still gettin colder (colder)
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| The Gift of Gab don’t stop (the way I feel I have just got to rock) |