| Here we go now, quit recking my stereo-sound
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| Spitting rhymes like a merry go round
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| Talking ‘bout your heavy fo' pound
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| Your barretta, your cheddar, your megalo style
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| Fella, quit messing around
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| Measure yo message yo, merit yo crown
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| Many clowns making money, many men wanna rap
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| Every dummy wanna spit it but how many profound?
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| Mcs are an army of clones
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| Talking ‘bout their revolvers n' clothes
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| Baccardi n' hoes, with garbagy flows
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| Is a beat really that hard to compose?
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| Hip-hop comes from the heart n' the bones
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| You can feel it when I’m rockin' my shows
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| I’m a lyricist, I’mma spit about every bit of it
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| I’m living it: a real MC already knows !
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| I keep rockin' til I need oxygen
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| Peace to all the beat boxers n'
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| Beat makers, the DJs, the street breakers
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| N' those that keep watching 'em
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| Graph writers that paint the city
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| They spray the walls, they make 'em gritty
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| Displaying stories that talk to me
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| In a way that’s witty
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| Individual vultures are killing the culture
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| With no heart in the music
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| You should move if you don’t wanna unify hip-hop
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| N' be a part of the movement, stupid !
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| Yeah… You heard what I said
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| Fuck the rumours this lot spread
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| I’mma tell every motherfucker listenin'
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| (Hip-hop is not dead!)
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| Stop the fuss dog, what’s the problem?
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| Trust me y’all, the culture ain’t dead it’s just evolvin'
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| (Hip-Hop is not dead !)
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| Like Latin, a language dies when it does not move
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| So let it live, let it mix, let it choose
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| (Hip-Hop is not dead!)
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| Suckers debate over who’s so dope n' who’s so not
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| Hip-hop police suck my you know what!
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| (Hip-Hop is not dead!)
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| Don’t be Nostalgic about something that you can keep breathing
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| That’s a good enough reason…
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| (It's Alive… !) |