| INTRO
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| Uh.T dot O to the N dot Y
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| That’s how we do it
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| Choclair, Kardinall hooked with my man Guru
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| And YlooK bitch? |
| What the fuck?
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| Yo, T-dot rocks y’all
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| We smoke and mix up in your face, you weeded
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| So you drop y’all, leaving y’all hired skills depleated
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| 'Cause you lockjaw, Chocs and Guru begin
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| Can you believe this how we lock y’all
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| Niggas who be talking how they bigger
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| How you figure?
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| You can spark with or talk with
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| This raw artist
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| You talk heartless but game straight harmless
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| Snatch your mic out your hand
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| Leave your fingers harmless
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| We rottweilers, while y’all be the tires
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| You need to retire
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| Fucking with Toronto, get your pink slip you’re fired
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| Kicked out the Thompson Hall through Apollo doors
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| Guru be the bre-the-ren
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| Bless the man, slide like the doors on the Caravan
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| The ill format, the skills all that
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| Twist enemies Jack
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| Let’s counteract, plus build and all that
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| In fact, take a flight to Toronto and back
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| Be over there with Choclair, Kardinall with the track
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| In the year born born, suckers have been forewarned
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| Take you higher than hydro or Moet ??
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| Word is bond, it’s on in this rap game
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| I slap mens, mack dames, yes I’m a fly black king
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| Stacking paper now, packing flavour now
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| Hit you dead in the head now
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| My hunger gotta get fed now
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| My style’s similar to a fierce knuckle hit
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| Or like hollow-points to pierce your whole fucking frame
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| CHORUS X2
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| A-yo witness the fitness
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| Who’s next on the hitlist?
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| Rap so exact that you can’t do shit
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| Now it’s the skinny man dropping this
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| Lock your brain, lock your lips
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| Talking shit? |
| Bust your game
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| Career flops? |
| I’m to blame
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| What’s the name?
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| Guru and the Chocs will reign
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| Wild like the lion’s mane walking through the rain
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| Or walking through the pain of critic suffering
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| Got my eyes on the prize with the red dot locked
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| That’s to keep it hot
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| My hungry-ass niggas be down for the figures
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| Green in the jean, Cruise like some act figures
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| You fucking with some raw, suave, dog ass niggas
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| Look into the eyes of the man that will be detrimental to your career
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| If you even touch the micstand, nigga 'nuff said
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| Verse 4: Guru
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| Hear the battle cry
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| Niggas getting herded like cattle to die
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| Why? |
| What the fuck you think?
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| You know they want our type of species to become extinct
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| Still we multiply, they can’t really kill us
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| They’re upset, we’re a threat 'cause their kids really feel us
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| They think we’re drug dealers, and some of us maybe are
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| But I be the G-U-R-U of the Gang to the Starr
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| I’m going far baby pa, dipping in a fly car
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| Getting eyes from the honeys, parking up at the bar
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| Always up to par when I spar
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| And yo, while your protecting your neck I be like breaking your jaw
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| Yo trizzack, your shit’s wizzack
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| I took that shit thizzack, it shouldn’t of even been up on the rizzack
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| Straight like thizzack, motherfuckers
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| A-yo witness the fitness
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| Who’s next on the hitlist?
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| Rap so exact that you can’t do shit
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| Cut and scratched by YlooK
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| «My attitude on the hoes.» |
| [-- Choclair
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| «I wreck the mic like a pimp pimps hoes» [-- Guru |