| Verse 1: Gravity Christ
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| Yo, I know a million ways to kill a motherfucker with words
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| I’m the remedy, the energy, the adjectives and verbs
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| I’m a gamer with charisma, you can peep my Twitch
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| Shoot a rapper first person, leave his ass in the ditch
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| Like a pastor when I pass the basket, run bills
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| It’s only a baptism if you was born with gills
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| Rap rappin' with these Aussies, drinking beer and selfies
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| They hit my cell phone, they know I roam and I’m stealthy
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| A backpack, some weed and a little coffee ristretto
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| A Cuban missile crisis and training coke in the ghetto
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| I’m living like I’m promised another planet and pain
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| You swear to God I’m a Crip the way I’m killin' The Game
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| See the bottom of your feet when I’m blastin' plasma
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| Like The Hulk, it’s your fault if I black and tag ya
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| Titan smash on your tent and take a piss on ya fire
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| I’m the King of Rock and I don’t get tired
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| Verse 2: Cee
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| Let’s go, yeah, throw me a Fender and I shred the shit
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| Rockin' since a youngun, only stoppin' when the pencil hit
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| Put me on a fuckin' track and they object to shit
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| I do ‘em how Israeli’s did Gaza, boy, and dead the kids
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| Fuck ‘em, this ain’t for radio to play it though
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| The haters finna hate but it’s what the tastemakers are achin' for
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| These little fuckboys trend following, best holla at
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| The team who runnin' that next power shit, test stopping ‘em
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| I’m drinking India Pale in the Canadian winter
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| A meat pie and pavlova, Australian dinner
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| We rollin' with an OG from Los Angeles
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| Wild cunts with stages and beats that we cause damage at
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| Yeah, we fuckin' rock kings with a rap habit
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| Champagne taste with a crack budget and acid manners
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| We Axel and Slash, Hammett and Hetfield
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| Morello, De La Rocha, motherfucker, pay respect still, still
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| Verse 3: Notion
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| Ayo guitars wailin', and y’all sayin' we don’t rock this?
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| We Van Halen, Aussie blood, got no options
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| Glad you stopped in, yes bitch, we Top 10
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| Like Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, we locked in
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| Cuttin' cunts off, as I tighten my circle
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| I’m using that FireWire, so the slice’ll burn you
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| I served you, yo I’m airborne like Bird Flu
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| I’m put here to murk dudes, I’m puttin' in work, duke
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| And that’s just me, I’m mindin' my B-I
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| Buzzing like a beehive, mendin' my three eye
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| Gee, why, do all these clowns keep harassing me?
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| Young un-classy G’s, I’m done with the baggage, please
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| So we finna slap back society
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| Spillin' my drink all over the curb, ignoring sobriety
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| Exploring the wiring of how we are made
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| Whoa, times have changed, even more so now, we slaves, engage! |