| aiyyo whattup el-p?
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| yo whattup del-phonic?
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| nuthin man; |
| I was on the bus the other day man
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| Tryin to listen to my walkman
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| This motherfucker all in my face
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| Tryin to holla at me and shit
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| Im like, «man — dude you just a offspring»
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| Im very interplanetary and vary with various experiments
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| Gregarious with verbals for your merriment
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| What el-p tell me to use, the beat di-ffuse
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| You lose and get played like a mood
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| Im rude revolting leave you molting
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| No thing — compares to my compadres
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| Well take it to broadway
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| Its beautiful the execution flawless
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| You all wet, soggy groggy when you saw me But I never tire whenever I adjust my thrust
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| Females blush I bring the california gold rush
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| Your flow sucks, your stamina cant endure
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| I manicure your lavender amatuer landed words
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| You havent heard? |
| cannabis analyst
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| Add a twist to my manuscripts
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| Il have you sent to the showers
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| Me and el-p, is superpowers like the us and ussr
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| Blow you like the deathstar
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| Leave your chest scarred like sagat
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| My plot proliferates, hits you like barbituates
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| In a twist of fate and splits your face
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| Its the great deltron-z, soundbombing
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| Run to mommy, Im airin out your dirty laundry
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| Im shooting then executing youre aiming from mainstream
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| Your brain tingles, strangles your lame jingles
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| Bingo I bring flows that attack like wild dingoes
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| Cant be pigeonholed, anything goes gringo
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| Here we go — up jumps the outcast, sever the connection
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| My mostly overconfident acquaintances pull numbers
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| To the anti-potients and fear that I drip sick in And rise out of my shell to teach sick or bedridden emcees
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| Til they fear living
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| Blockin the cocks that bust shots, spittin smitten bitches
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| Til the day of the locust, kitchen cutlery cuts
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| Dmx 16 crossfade with a strange lust
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| Dr. strangelove, born in the back of the train, fameless shame
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| Shared with acne pick brain pit
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| Tried to capture the moment of subtle death
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| Destro magnet spit — action fit into capsules
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| Slipped in the dirty waterway speaker cabinets
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| Maximum b-boy axiom stabbin shit
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| Intellectual women find that my rhyme style relaxes them
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| And wonder if I fuck to the same rhyme style pattern
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| Its autobahn pipe bomb glass fragment shatter
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| To break new jacks at after parties for actin actual
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| Factor x into your formula for fresh thoughts
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| With a megalon wingspan that bulge from the back of the text radical
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| Radio time tracks flatten your flattery
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| The tradition excuse used by biters; |
| ambiguously homo
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| Knotted tights and colored underwear
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| Thats wrapped around the brittle legs of Things without weapons — Im grief diseased brethren
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| Swim in a sea of shit and malt liquor, feed on excedrin
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| Radiate through tenements; |
| emcees bleed estrogen!
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| Chorus: del and el-p
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| Watch insanity increase
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| Break it up piece by piece
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| Never weak in the least
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| Think you better see a priest
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| (mortality, dont battle me, its costly
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| We the raw breed all of yall is just the offspring)
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| yo del kick that shit again
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| Tomahawking your tom-tom club
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| You tried to holler at me at my show, lookin like you on drugs
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| You love the del Ill thug you, bumpin juvenile
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| Thinkin you in style, packin like you movin now
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| I move top speed, scott free with cock-d
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| Knock-kneed delivery that scorches you like lockheed
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| Dr. decibel, my deliverance is questionable
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| But as far as this session goes Im wreckin skulls
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| Better check your pulse, we visionaries with this
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| Scarin the shit outta record labels next to fatal
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| Right beside homocide bonafied bewilderment
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| Militant diligence like Im buildin pyramids
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| Peel your cap reveal your lack of flavor
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| Track your pager plus your celly
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| Piss on your pele pele, catch you comin out of belly
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| Dumbin out daily, tell me, what was your rationale
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| Think of matchin del I disconect your pactell
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| My mobile code words, showboat with no hope
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| For any rhyme you kick or any beat you load up Leave you catatonic off a bag of chronic, skanless with anthems
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| Stomp your little cadence out at random
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| Ran-random, ran-random
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| El and del-aphonic known to go off on a tantrum
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| Now you know.
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| For the backpackers, for the computer hackers
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| For the misplaced famous, for all the video gamers
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| For the derranged krylon stain makers
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| For the ungry hungry ass verbal brain rapists
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| That new york to the bay shit!
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| «go off, go off!» |