| We’d like to dedicate this particular tune
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| to all to all to all the hell of ya from wherever
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| But there’s only weak rappers steady making hits, fuck that!
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| Verse One:
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| I drop clarity like kerotene, everytime I speak out
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| Rappers freak out, but never stick their necks too deep out
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| and touch the live wire, gettin live like from gaya inner
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| Jim Jones cool-aid you got mad reason to be afraid
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| You ain’t ready, rappers are petty, never lyrical
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| It’s a miracle they need to reign as they physical
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| to get blessed, East vs. West, we never on that
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| Cause the rugged format you can get from where you’re born at
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| So learn this, to burn this, you gotta earn this
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| with your rap style be the firmest, forget about your color of epidermis
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| for advantages, there’s bandages, whatever your language is
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| You be in Danger like that Blahzay triangle is
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| The Blah pre your mind freein
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| Not the fatigue wearin jewels glarin rapper, you used to seein
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| Absestos study lessions to make impressions
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| The P’s come and squeal on the real I’m mad excited
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| I got my deal but still…
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| Chorus:
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| You don’t know the pain I feel
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| But there’s all these weak rappers steady making hits, fuck that!
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| 'cause 'cause 'cause you don’t know the pain I feel
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| But there’s all these weak, rappers, steady making hits
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| You don’t know the pain I feel
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| But there’s all these weak rappers steady making hits, fuck that!
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| 'cause 'cause 'cause you, 'cause, 'cause you don’t know the pain I feel
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| But there’s all these weak, rappers, steady making hits
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| Verse Two:
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| Now everybody lamp go ahead get amped for your camp
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| Without no harmony your Normandy will never be the champ
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| And let me mention, no racial tension the way the rule goes
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| I flows with bros, PF flows with papa chulos
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| We combine cluster, you can’t muster break your ligaments
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| Building my predicaments, living with the immigrants
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| See special blow your vest or do it thorough
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| That’s blurro, my referral don’t try to rally up your borough
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| Just warm, stay calm if you don’t got steel in your palm
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| you’ll peel me, I’m top rank I got more lines than the Yanks
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| uni-form, carry on screamin on MC’s
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| Running around together only bonded by smoking trees
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| Chronic, my tonic make you vomit for teamin up
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| Bringin the drama, be blank comma blank comma
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| Read it, singers get weeded, then conceeded
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| But you don’t know the pain
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| So watch how you feed it to me
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| Chorus
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| Verse Three:
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| Comin with with the raw tech, strong like Gortex
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| Rappers get more plex, as they make their name off all fetch
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| and unrealistic, your neighbor crew know you’re ballistic
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| Your statistic ain’t mistic, under that talk we know who is it
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| So stay busy, keep touring
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| Your hood is roaring, it’s not a place for pussycats to be exploring
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| Your plan lock it, you bandwagon just to start a rival
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| Without skills you better check for your own survival
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| And feel the pain rappers talk a good John Wayne but look stupid
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| You be trying to play us like a groupie
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| With your rap staff you riff and raff
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| I listen and laugh, in town you down out of town you get sent ass
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| And you don’t know the pain…
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| Chorus |