| Motherfucker I make power moves, with the power of Zeus
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| A pack of rabid gorillas that just broke out of the zoo
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| But not the zoobalie brutally, beat 'em, eat 'em, they food to me
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| Suckers foolishly fool with me, better stop the buffoonery
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| I’m a lunatic, literally with looney bin lunacy
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| Howlin' at a lunar eclipse, I’m losin' my shit
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| Catch me on the moon with your bitch
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| Refuelin' my ships, resuming my trip
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| To Jupiter where humans are rumored to be like mutants
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| I’m usin' a fireball that I’m shootin' outta my palms
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| Like bombs, I’m napalm in this song
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| I play beer pong with cups filled up with Energon
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| There’s a reason why me and Megatron don’t get along
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| I’m the evilest, rottenest, rippin' out your esophagus
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| Put slugs in your mugs, see more blood than phlebotomists
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| I’m a bottomless pit, Ap’s the obvious pick
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| When askin' who would impale you upon an obelisk tip
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| Crash your grill like the plane on the cover of License To Ill
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| Bitin' what I’m writin' just to heighten your skill
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| But stealin' out my rap book won’t get you a deal
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| Black renaissance, scribe ill scripture with quills
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| My sword is a pen that’s protectin' my art
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| Florescent colored Mozart, right from the heart
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| I enlighten with the scrolls, Malachi York, act like you know
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| I sent soldiers up in your fort
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| We ain’t the same nigga, you ain’t cut from my cloth
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| I rep Demigodz
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| On top of water we walk, that’s real talk
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| That’s for Bost and CT and New York
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| Eat my ziti with tomato sauce, I don’t do pork
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| Stab Satan with the pitchfork, you switch when you walk
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| Transves
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| Faggot niggas can’t be the best
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| Black rhinos, stampede straight through your vest
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| The ghetto Bobby Fischer, like Fresh with chess
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| These faggots saw the Panchi chronicles and then I heard they hate it
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| But I can’t be violated or even decepticated
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| I got gunners out in Brownsville, shooters from the east
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| Killers out of Fort Greene, slicker than grease
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| Broads from Bushwick, that’ll give a buck fifty
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| To any bum dusty nigga who try to talk shifty
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| It’s best to befriend us, don’t try to offend us
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| I done fronted on niggas that’s bigger than the bar tenders
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| Make me dip until my pants pull up
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| This .45 and push your fat ass into a curly fry
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| You don’t wanna play my blast on your wack broadcast?
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| Then you and your whole staff can kiss my black ass
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| Niggas take what I say back home, give it a listen
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| Then revert to G religion like a Muslim or a Christian
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| Or a Baptist or a Jew dude
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| (Panch they love what you do)
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| Yeah, I got 'em hypnotized like I’m doin' voodoo
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| If I’m in the trench I’m mannin' the machine gun (man)
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| You are Carl Jr. managing beef on buns (bitch)
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| The whip creep with the 007 mods
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| Press on the gear shift, missile at your entourage
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| If I got time for a meeting, it’s only cause I wanted to glare at my watch
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| And find out I made a little mo' gwap (yup)
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| The warning’s on the wrapper like a cigarillo package
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| The best blow to my ego’s like you threw a pillow at it
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| I’m off the chain but got it on lock when I write shit
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| I’m on some Crocodile Dundee, «this is a knife» shit
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| (Ain't my material dope?)
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| So dirty it need antibacterial soap, I know you feelin' it though
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| DGZ, NYGZ, we spit rampant
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| Uncover your scams and
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| You’ll get a visit from Chris Hansen
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| C dot Titled shoot chrome nozzles
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| That send rappers downhill in wheelchairs and make 'em perfect role/roll models |