| My birth certificate reads: Earth’s most descriptive MC
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| My death certificate’ll read: I’m dead, quit listening to me But while I’m here I’ll use the planet as a platform
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| To plant panic in faggots and bash 'em with a mask on My stamina’s twice more to boost
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| I persuaded Anakin from the light side towards the truth
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| So panic in fright when handing me mics, wars insue
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| From the mic lord ya family likes more than you
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| Your head’ll flinch when I nurse you to trauma
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| Cause my add libs are iller than any verse you can conjure
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| Megahertz will persecute you with honor
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| Wheathermen’ll take it one step further and murder ya momma
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| Climb the highest mountain, spit bottomless venom, shot 'em with rhythm
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| I don’t get problems, I give 'em
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| My skin is made of the sharpest and thinnest blades
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| My notebook’s more amazing than the one Guinness made
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| So when I rock what’s not to like
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| I use your rhymes as an example of what not to write
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| Your faction is nothing, you’ll get chewed for the hell of it If rappin was fuckin ya whole crew would be celebit
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| Copywrite’ll shit a million words before your first sentence drops
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| Or before my double engine stops, whichever comes first
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| Cause I’m determined to serve y’all with permanent words, murdering germs
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| By avoiding the most obvious method, my hobby is catching
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| And you can’t dodge the Intrepid
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| Tis the season I’ll ceast you breathing through ya chest
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| That’s not a threat, it’s the reason I was sent
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| (Chourus)
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| Fucksoundcheck the crowd wants it now
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| Fuck site, by scent I’ll hunt you down
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| There’s 5 senses 4 seasons 3 emcees 2 down 1 breathing 1 weasing
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| Anyone who dis O-H town, I’m shittin on DJ’s that don’t have 2 copies of this, I’m shittin on When we on stage shut up until my click is gone
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| Show respect before your bitch is gone
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| Piercing me in the eyes is like staring at the sun for a minute or 3
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| You’ll close your eyes blink and still see an image of me No camera can capture the essence
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| One thousand years nuthin changed, Dracula never had a reflection
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| Fuck rockin mics, I’m cracking domes with African Stones
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| My practice sessions a classic alone
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| Give me six minutes, teams a stripped gimmicks
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| I don’t wanna be mainstream, I wanna PISS in it
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| I’ll eat you twice, invite you back for thirds to lose
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| Try again and get ate 4 times like 32
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| By a raw crew that’ll bury all you
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| With Freestyles that result in thousand dollar lawsuits
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| Hardcore, so while you spin on cardboard
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| I evole the practice of shit talking to an art form
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| And your banned from the mic
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| I get more Dap over the course of day
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| Then you’ll see in the span of ya life
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| Damn right, but I got all day if y’all wanna learn the hard way
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| Show y’all how a thunder god plays
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| To sum it up, I’ll Kill you
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| I don’t blame you for being wack
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| I blame your fans for being dumb enough to feel you
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| Travel with me, I’ll pass you by 10 styles, battle?
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| y’all ain’t no battle emcees, y’all are pen pals
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| You ran, I launch rapid torpedos
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| Now I’m dead on ya ass like rabbit fur speedos
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| God damnit I laminate what I write
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| After seeing how y’all are contaminating the mic
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| I animate when I strike right off the paper to cause random acts of Slamming a fan’s axe dead in ya man’s back
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| My monstrous accomplice wands’ll stun fast
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| with the promptness of a gun blast
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| I’m like, semen to semen I cum out the hardest
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| And I won’t scalp tickets to a concert, I scalp the artist
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| (Repeat chorus) |