| Yeeaahhh yo the Evaporate Remix
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| You gotta love it my man Dutchmassive
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| Me, Majik Most
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| And Celph Titled
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| We hadda come back and evaporate your face with the remix
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| (Verse 1: Dutchmassive)
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| Ayo Majik says that I can say anything I want
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| So I crush this verse right under my writers block
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| Build a pyramid of punch lines and hover right above it
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| Pull out the red carpet, cause Dutch can’t think of nothin'
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| And he’s such a fuckin' star; |
| can’t you hear all the trumpets?
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| Trample on your drum roll, I brought my own percussion
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| Fuckin up the industry, re-build as it was meant to be
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| A swift response for the gods who have sent for me
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| A centipede named crazy legs couldn’t out-do
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| The B-Boy super-human, watch he’s performin' his music
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| Star struck rappers screw face like John (?)
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| Too serious about they little underground movement
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| Press up some vinyl, hurry to do exclusives
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| Now your closet full of Puma’s is filled with dusty units
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| (Just sittin there) next to the mic and a broomstick
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| Some people are just so so stupid
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| So moooove bitch get out the way
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| Equilibrium is drunk and gettin' wilin' on stage
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| Fuckin' up a verse and holdin' down the tropic states
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| And we make MC’s worldwide evaporate
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| (Verse 2: Majik Most)
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| Ayo I’m off the meter
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| Like Mr. Wizard launching 2 liters
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| The new and improved Majik Most, with new features
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| Gnawing on your girls little breast like a beaver
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| So pack it up bitch cause I’m coming through raw
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| Kid you know I’ll smack you with a rusted hacksaw
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| Like, oh shit! |
| Is that a piece of his jaw?!
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| Brawling 24/7 to sever your brethren
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| Got you beggin' for heaven, sendin' you straight to hell
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| And I’ll be right here
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| While you chillin' in a morgue
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| I’m online sellin' your liver on organ.org
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| Get your face floored while your family applauds
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| For all of ya’ll, grab the mic and never fail
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| While you go in gay bars and order a cocktail
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| Frontin' in the restaurant like you was the man
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| I bought your plants; |
| send you a batch of bad clams
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| With more botchulism than a box of canned hams, bitch!
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| (Verse 3: Celph Titled)
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| Ayo the words out, me and my team came to shut this down
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| And my guns came too, they wanna bust some rounds
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| Cold chillin on the block like I’m sellin' cane
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| Choppin' bodies up, wrappin' remains in cellophane
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| Don’t mean to frighten kids
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| I’m just a star rockin' coats lookin like they’re made from Mary J Blige’s wigs
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| You should let your man speak on your behalf
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| Cause when I let the blade slice, you’ll just be half
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| And I got a dungeon in my bathroom
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| Plus the way I torture motherfuckers it’s like I’m Vidal Sassoon
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| Turn a blonde nigga to a redhead
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| Futon to a deathbed
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| Bullets keep you breastfed
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| When I’m aiming for the chest
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| Oh, now the games over
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| At the Up In Smoke Tour with a flame thrower
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| Lookin' for a dumb girl that’s slower than a screw tape
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| With a fat ass, never tell that bitch to lose weight
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| From (?) Park to Waters Avenue
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| One of the only rappers who takes a trip to hell every afternoon
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| And still here to tell about it
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| It’s Equilibrium 'till the death, motherfuckers get devoured |