| Back in the days we wished to be a star
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| Rap in the street, bang the beat on a car
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| Swany D banged the hood so hard it would dent
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| While Dave and Rob just invents
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| A style so smooth and unique
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| But then Rob went to school, Dave’s on Wall Street
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| With a suit and a tie, Rob has a book bag
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| But deep in their hearts I knew they wished they had
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| A chance to rap on the record heard on the radio
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| I was making my second album and said, «Yo»
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| No time to rehearse
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| Yo, Rob, you’re first
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| To kick your text
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| Homeboy, you’re next
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| This is Rob, first to rock the microphone
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| To see all the chromosomes
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| The DNA structure
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| Will make you pucker
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| Up your lips
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| And say, «Boy, he’s a trip»
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| To Africa
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| People want to go and laugh at ya
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| Up you mighty race, you can accomplish what you will
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| Cause I will kill
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| The beat not the person, cause I don’t ill like that
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| I just rap and attack
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| It ain’t wack
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| I love being black
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| But you’re scared cause society went boo
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| Don’t judge me as one of the many, but one of few
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| That will do
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| Anything I have to do
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| To open your mind because you’re numb
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| This is serious, but I won’t extract the fun
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| So when I kick it like karate
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| Bite you like arare
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| If you kiss your teeth
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| There’s beef
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| I have a shotty
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| That’s home waiting
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| There’s no escaping
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| Bum, don’t you know the sum of the parts is equal to whole
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| And if you’ve got heart
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| Check out the roughest part
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| It’s part two
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| Dave it’s on you
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| To kick the text
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| Homeboy, you’re next
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| My rap is synonymous with perfection
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| Suckers try to play me then they run for protection
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| Think about it when it comes to the rhyming
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| Originality, that with all the great timing
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| Cause rapping with authority is the style that I am using
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| So when you’re at a party and you get to choosing
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| The best
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| I mean compared to the rest
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| For style and class there is no contest
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| I’m not offended
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| Or pretending
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| I’m just lending
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| A bit of my rhyme and then I am sending
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| A musical note to whom it may concern
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| You wanna battle me, then you’ll have to get burned
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| Cause I’ll meet you
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| Beat you
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| Over again
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| Send you to the bar for a Heineken
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| And then you’ll come back for a rematch
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| Or some haps until we kick it
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| I’ll say a fresh rhyme
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| Of course you’ll vick it
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| Then I’ll have to just beat you again
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| I’ll have to slay you
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| Burn, broil, fry, and saute you
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| Cause taking out a punk like you is pure fun
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| I’ll stick you with a fork when I think you’re done
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| So savor
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| Cause I will not do you any favors
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| And all these suckers out there just Flava Flav imitators
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| Yeah y’all
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| No time to fall
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| I’m gonna go to the top
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| But I won’t crawl
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| Gonna jump and leap
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| Not walk I’m gonna run
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| My pops is forty-five and I’m a son of a gun
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| It’s Chubb Rock
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| If you was wondering who
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| It’s a collaboration merely of the two
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| With Rob and Dave
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| They both had a page
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| We was all down back in the days
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| Doug, Martin, Gary, Johnny, Stan
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| Jamey, Danny, Tony, Ezra, and
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| Derrick, Joe, Russell, Kurt, Louis Roddle
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| Gene, Malcolm, Sean Fisher, and Donald
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| And the others that lived on Troy
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| This record goes out to my homeboy…
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| Donny Battle |