| Copy and Ok, we stay beating hoes
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| In broad daylight whooping the living daylights outta broads; |
| rain sleet or snow
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| Craziest flow, pay me a G
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| Rock so long promoters gone have to pay me to leave
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| I aim and I squeeze, got you favorite emcees' brains on my sleeves
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| Starting forest fires, blazing the trees
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| Critically acclaimed, clinically insane
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| And if you ain’t see how I spit it then I must’ve did it in the rain
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| How rookies want respect? |
| Best decline in fear
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| You got pussy on your neck, you wet behind the ears
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| Locked in at your top ten’s vital
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| Hock phlegm like I’m auditioning for Rakim’s title
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| Too evil to quit, who’s more lethal and sick?
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| Coming at you like I sneezed through my dick
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| Holler bitch lane merging
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| I’m like a med. |
| school scholarship
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| For free I’ll change a lame virgin to a brain surgeon
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| New hoes lay for two whole days
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| Fuck chicks with Eaze, you’d think I’d have full blown A. I. D. S
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| Matter fact, sickest emcee to tear the mic since Eric Wright
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| You guest appearing? |
| Bring fire cause I ain’t sharing light
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| Arrogant with mics, terrorist in flight
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| Flying where you live, this guy write paragraphs in Arabic tonight
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| Preparing dick for dikes, you guessed it
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| I’ll show your crew true essence on June 7th you peasants
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| Any crew you with is full of shit till the bullets hit when the uzi spit
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| I write more lines than the late John Belushi sniffed
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| Screw who you get, try your luck
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| But I’m not in the mile high club so I don’t give a flying fuck
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| Puffing herb in this three inch Dutch
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| Laying it down for the streets like construction workers with cement trucks
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| Haters scanning on radars planning to raid our land and
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| Evade all hands with the A. R. cannon’ll spray, I’m scamming
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| Like, fuck you think you doing to me?
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| Ruining me? |
| Junior you were humoring me
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| Crying how I repeat too many lines in rhymes
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| That only means that you peep too many rhymes of mine
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| And the lines are mine so eat a dick; |
| I ain’t at your nine to five
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| Telling you how to super size the fries
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| So here’s three words, eat shit and die
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| Keep spitting lies, I’mma keep getting high
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| Doing shows, screwing hoes on their back
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| Shoot a load like I squeezed rounds at the Laundromat
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| Obnoxious hot shit even during sound check we rock shit
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| Y’all couldn’t open up for us if y’all were locksmiths
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| And I dare y’all say battling’s dead
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| That’s what the last cat that I massacred said
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| So I keep a Glock close, quick to pull it when a cop’s close
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| That’s foolish, that’s like wasting bullets on a cockroach |