| I wait to see your skull vibrate
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| When I bury the hatchet, I hope you catch it, I’ll attach it
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| To his focus, when I broke his head in half
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| Feel the wrath, on my behalf
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| I drop math, and english, leave you squeamish
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| Then I squish your wish you’re all fuckin dreamers (alla y’all)
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| No time for tiddlywinks — if your titties is pink
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| Then you are white and I’m not the right man (not for me)
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| But you can blow pipe, my style is so tight
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| I be carvin, MC’s when I’m starvin (I'm hungry)
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| You little chunks of punks that I dunks in my coffee
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| Get off me, I’m not your softie
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| But you will cough for your breath and phlegm, death to them
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| And silly broads, I fuck 'em and I chuck 'em (why?)
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| In the river, without a liver
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| And I donate to science, cause I’m a giver
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| The mysterious clearly busts brains with my brawn
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| Ask Sean, Cassidy about how I trash MC’s
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| On the daily, Alex Haley had to write about it
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| Doubt it but it’s true, get a clue (get a clue)
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| I’m tellin you the truth you’ll be toothless
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| The boots get smoked like they on fire, I desire
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| Like Salt’N’Pepa, I’ll fuck a fat heffer (yeah)
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| Like I was Fritz the Cat, and she admits to fat
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| So I’m movin removin wackness from my stratosphere
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| If I thought that that was near
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| «You still bet that you can harm me, but you don’t alarm me.»
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| Listen to this
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| You’re just a test tube baby, you can’t fade me, but hey G
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| Your style is lazy, boy you’re crazy
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| Losin it, check out my fusion kit (here it is)
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| It’s welding rhymes and propelling, swelling (rrrahh)
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| Getting bigger, getting niggas in headlocks
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| Instead lock your scanners on Bruce Banner
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| I crush fools plus tunes used by the master
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| Will blast you into Tuesday, when I bruise a
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| Motherfucker, who mother suck a cock
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| And his brother fuck a jock, and his sister, got blisters
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| On her lips that be spreadin, she be-headin (yes she do)
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| Showin cleavage, with my futuristic styles I leave kids
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| In a trance, hypnotizin your eyes spin
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| Back in your head like you dead but instead you was buggin
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| Ugly bitches get the dillz after shows (shows)
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| Cause I don’t be runnin after hoes that be stank
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| I thank the Lord, for my thought
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| Connected to the microphone, so check the cycle tone
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| That I be arousin, housin your blouse and your pumps
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| The mac daddy makes you jump! |
| (yeah)
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| I pump info, into nymphos, who be bonin
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| Clonin, Vanessa Del Rio
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| And yes sir Del see no evil, hear no evil
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| It’s normal, I come formal, to keep 'em warm 'til the morn' |