| What’s your station identification
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| I spark a mental cypher lasting down through revelations
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| Take a trip into my mental cypher, I get hyper
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| Sniping-ass MC’s, seem to get me higher
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| Like the buddah, bless the cess when I’m smoking
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| Hawaiian when I’m rhymin cuz there ain’t no time for joking
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| Just lyrical bliss from the depths of the abyss
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| Rotating lyrical rhythms like the motions of the wrist
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| On a fag, I rag, wack MC’s like Maxi
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| Pads, you can’t see me Intellectually, you shallow, mentally, you’re just starving
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| I’m rollin on em like Calvin Butts up in Harlem
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| Wit metaphors, fuck a nine and clip
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| I make a rapper trip like white chicks in horror flicks
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| Identify your station or? |
| adjustment?
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| I’m transmitting, I’m giving MC’s division, through diction
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| Cut em half, check the math, like magician
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| Conflicting pain on membranes
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| I’m running shit and killing flows like some wet dreams
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| I maintain, no static feedback when I attack
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| Like Shaquille, oh so neal down as I appeal to the masses
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| I slash kids to ashes and dust, get strucked
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| As I construct skills that build, I don’t be giving a fuck
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| Like chastity, my compacity’s unlimited
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| Wit no gimmick, kids can’t figure my structure like pyramids
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| I’m spirited like psychic and dead men resurrected
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| My wisdon’s like prisms when light gets reflected, check it My lyrical missiles, like heat suckers seeking
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| Never weakening, feeding off wack rhymers give me strength
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| Then I lenghten, wit no measure
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| Cuz I’m the ruler of styles, I rocket, the unidentify flowing object
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| Time for a station, identification
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| Wack rappers, open up your eyes, time for lyrical elevation
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| But you can’t handle when I channel
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| Entering through mental panels, melting membranes like candles
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| Disintegrating mental matter, into ashes
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| Steppin up to rappers, just like the Titan Clashes
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| Bash an eyelash, my lyrical energy travels fastest
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| When propel by the leaves of Hawaii
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| Hardcore raps is about skills, so why do gangstas keep trying
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| I’m breakin on these muthafuckas like beat, street
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| I beat other rappers like? |
| sega beats needs to beat meets?
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| Vocal technique like Panasonic
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| My rhythm moves in motion cuz my skills is like bionic
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| Identification, station switched wit my lyrical hydraulics
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| I’m cosmic, the unidentify flowing object
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| I find that you can’t defined this, other rappers are blind to this
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| I’m seeing, you’re bleeding from your sinuses
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| Cuz I’m on a higher plane, I’ll be frying brains
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| I crack heads like cocaine addicts, automatic
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| Dramatic, I break backs, I’m chiropractic
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| I got mad, drastic tactics and static
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| Gymnastic styles it seems
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| Cuz I be flippin and balancing beams
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| Of radiation, devastation, you’re facing, no tracing
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| You can’t sketch a figure, abstract, no bullet gaps
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| If you’re wack, my rhymes are triggered, you’re dying quicker
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| I jack, cuz I rip a weak-ass rapper, I shatter
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| Cross em, toss em, the more erratic, flow patterns them in the war zone
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| Females, you need brail, you can’t see what I’m speaking
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| In fact, your delinquency can’t see my frequency
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| I speak to thee in tongues like the exorcist
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| You can’t test this, I resurrect wit correctness
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| I’m defying like death is Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and
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| Check your station, check your station (3x)
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| Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and
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| Check your station, identification
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| Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and
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| Check your station, yo, it’s time to come real, now yo Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and
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| Check your station identification, where you at in '94 |