| Uh, Dreddy Kruger, what up, my nigga?
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| Yeah, GZA, you know, uh, Rassy, you know
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| Shouts out to my nigga Wreckonize, all my MIA
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| Formed in very a strong advanced post, east to west coast
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| Ahead of time, competition not even half close
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| Let’s say, by no means, an equal value
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| Prematurely brought to play, I’ll never allow you
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| To strike first, so precautions must be taken
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| And what’s worst? |
| When you’re just fronting and faking
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| It’s a shame when the sixteen bars are just a waste
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| And every line or word, is badly placed
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| Even dealing with the narrow window of time
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| My arrangements are quick, shutting down your power lines
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| On a bunch of small puppets, with a wack ass team
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| That only move, at a push of a button that pull strings
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| Bad boys move in silence, secretly fading in
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| Unlike fake gangstas and ya wannabe made men
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| Acting like they carry the gun that killed Lincoln
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| Or they rolling with two hundred murderers from Kingston
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| Our goal is to learn y’all niggas, about this new world order
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| But I’m still try’nna run up in the president’s daughters
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| He the author, ain’t let the NARC’s see this sparker
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| Stick to bitches walls like I’m Peter Parker
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| The Vida Guerra sidekick hacker
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| Five naked flicks, on the Internet jacked her
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| Dog, I’m not a rapper, I’m the black Dracula
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| Nosferatu, spitting darts at you, out of black Acura
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| Homies is gat packers, rat packer
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| Fly nigga, I’m the Benjamin stack attractor
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| Mack attacker, pimp slapper, the track cracker
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| Epitome of nice, after Rainbo press the lacquer
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| And y’all niggas is the worst, like fat chicks with little tits
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| If your names not YKK, then get off my dick
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| Bitch, I hang with the trillest, and that’s why 5 percenters
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| College kids and ex-felons feel us
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| I’m sick with the words, Waterproof and Liquid Swords
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| The world never heard this before, call me Mr. More
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| More money, more murder, and more spit to serve |