| I know y’all wanna take me down
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| I know y’all wanna see me get clowned
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| I know y’all wanna take my sound
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| And put a nigga like me in the lost and found
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| But I refuse to fade I’ll stay this way
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| Spreadin' venom in the mic till I’m old and gray
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| And now niggaz wanna attack me
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| Flip flop and back me
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| But fool you’s a mackey
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| I’ll starch your ass like some khakis
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| Your shit is tacky and you better play the backwoods
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| Me and my crew will use your CD for a hackey sack
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| Imagine that and it shouldn’t be hard
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| 'Cause your style ain’t large
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| And you wanna make all the profits with crowbars
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| Can you dig it? |
| When nothin' can save it
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| Shock your ass like a phaser
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| Burn and cut like a laser
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| Amaze you, with this flava
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| I run with a pack of tennis shoe playas
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| The first law of age is called survival
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| That’s why I’m deadly on revival
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| And it’s vital to my basic instinct
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| That all wack mcs become extinct
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| Because we on the brink or, should I say the edge
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| Like a schizophrenic with seventeen personalities walkin' on a ledge
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| Then you can’t see the black 'cause it’s blocked
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| By the blue and the red
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| U.f.o.s and scandalous ass hoes
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| Waist deep in the shit, it’s still smellin' like a rose
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| And I suppose you want me to play superstar
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| And when I see you on the street act like I don’t know who you are
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| So, you can run back and tell that but I won’t do that
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| So, fool you can chew that to all sucka mcs you better beware
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| I been conjurin' up forces way back in my lair
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| And my crew don’t scare and we don’t care, we act, we wear, I swear
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
|
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| It’s the thrilla straight outta Compton, not manila
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| Got a choke hold on the mic like I was M.C. |
| gorilla
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| Take this to the heart for real a
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| Don’t you ever try to steal a
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| Like aids this shit came like gin a
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| Might fuck up your Liva
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| Call me pharaoh 'cause I’m floatin' bustas up the river
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| When I deliver make your sister and your grandma shiver
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| Top feelin' steadily rakin' up the scrilla
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| Kickin' back in my easy chair sippin' on some henna
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| Exol 'cause my whole crew is locin'
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| And fools always tryin' to fix shit that ain’t broken
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| I’m down with pixies so you don’t wanna see me
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| So, grab everyone in your crew and disappear like a genie
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| Never said I was the best but I ain’t the one to be testin'
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| Cross the line and in pieces you’ll be destined
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| Don’t stop, get it, get it
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| 'Cause I blow up the spot every time
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| I grab the mic and hit it, hit it
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
|
| Can you dig it?
|
| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
|
| Can you dig it?
|
| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |
| Can you dig it?
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| Can you dig it? |