| If ya keep on doin the things you are dooooin, don’t wanna do it (Don't do
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| it)
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| Yo, I’m tired of these niggaz in this industry
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| Procrastinate to assassinate me, what you high off some trees?
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| I figure ya said that cuz yo' bitch was on yo' back
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| Dead that, this vigilante wit' swords gon' come and chop down yo' facts
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| I stand amongst he square with a youth, phony prevail
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| Anythin other than that nigga, just condemned by Hell
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| Is you slick just to do the shit like Buddhists?
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| Heather B, three hundred sixty degrees, level move this
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| My audio shells is my surface and my third eye covered by mucus
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| Oh, so there’s a hundred-eight pressure points, I’m sorry ya didn’t know
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| this
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| Ha, ya hopeless, also soon to be homeless
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| Ya betta sit back and start taken fuckin dough to this
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| My dosage, sick like white lotus, don’t never «e this
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| Realize this tritan is mad ferocious
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| For the minute, I rolls out my Old Earth’s home
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| Thug life became known and sold drugs like Al Capone
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| So, you’se a so-called thug nigga, here’s a slug for ya wigga
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| How ya figure? |
| Ya test the style that was born to be wit' ya
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| I was born to be bad, the Brooklyn Zu, Thief of Bagdad
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| Lay yo' ass on the grass, and gimme all ya fuckin cash!
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| cuz.
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| You gonna make me spark somebody up (Yo, you, you and you)
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| If ya keep on doin the things ya dooooo (Don't make me do it!)
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| You gonna make me spark somebody up (You know who I be, nigga, what?!)
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| If ya keep on doin the things you are dooooin, don’t wanna do it!
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| (Level seven)
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| Yo, to each and every men, call yo' ten best friends
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| and watch this verbal murder just start to begin
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| Ha, like winds, my style enters yo' anatomy
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| Reconstruct yo' mind, niggaz, and shake to' bone cavity
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| Are you mad at me? |
| Take yo' ass to Buddha Monk’s academy
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| Get a crash-test course, nothin new for the G-O-D
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| You so silent, so silent then don’t do it
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| For to be all bad, plus styes that run up like blood fluid
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| Yo, I’m true to this, wet rap flows like breakin mucus
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| Hit you so hard, it feels like a shift in yo' uterus
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| Have no clue to this? |
| Oh, Buddha Monk’s just movin in this mist
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| Yo, it’s pure verbal murder when I get into yo' shiiiit
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| You gonna make me spark somebody up (hahahaha)
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| If ya keep on doin the things ya dooooo (Level ten)
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| You gonna make me spark somebody up (I mean you and you and you)
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| If ya keep on doin the things you are dooooin, dont wanna do it!
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| Watch these whirlwind kicks, we move forward this very day
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| You pray that our kills it on yo' whole family
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| This technique that we speak seeps inside the devil’s teeth
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| Now you’re body’s been breached by the seven-dotten priest
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| Stop the lyin, all hail to the God that’s now residin
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| To teach the new souls the nightmares of lost foes
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| I move worst than Babylon, son I’ll tally up ya arm
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| Throw this knowledge like windstorms, crown the sovreigns that bear arms
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| We Manchuz, Masta Allah Rahmel now sees you
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| and the Zig-Zag-Zag, seven fly picture this pyramid
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| Can’t erase this shit I gave you from the devil, the triple-six
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| Manchuz not duck low while Brooklyn Zu make body blows
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| Hide your feet on hot coals, North Star fourty-eight track impose
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| Lyrics assassin strike low, Buddha Monk is above the law!
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| Now it’s war! |
| Things ain’t just peace no more
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| You niggaz hit the floor floor, face the, face the floor, floor
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| Say, you gonna (you)
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| you gonna… (you and you and you)
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| You gonna, ya gonna. |
| (what you gonna do?)
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| Ya gonna make me spark somebody up (Buddha Monk, you’ve done it again)
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| If ya keep on doin the things ya dooooo
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| (I don’t wanna, yes, I don’t wanna!)
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| You gonna make me spark somebody up
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| (This is dedicated to all those who think I’m a real MC)
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| I don’t wanna do it, yo, don’t wanna do it!
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| Buddha Monk, you just keep bangin em funky
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| You just keep bangin em funky
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| You know you a crazy cat, right?
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| Yes, that’s right, baby
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| huh-huh-huh-huh, yea… |