| Batter up, I’m bad as fuck, fuck a battle, y’all are nerds
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| Nerf balls in the Super Bowl, absolutely absurd
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| Serve rappers like soup bowls with scones for dessert
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| Surfs up, you’ll certainly get sunk
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| Drive your whip off a pier with you tied up in the trunk
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| This is truck music, ask your girlfriend 'cause we fuck to it
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| Inside her SUV, I’ll set you free
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| Rip your soul out your body, I’mma let you see
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| The cosmos, God’s close, turn your flesh into compost
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| I’m confident, dick big as the Washington Monument
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| I’m grimy as fuck but still walk amongst the opulent
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| Abandon ship, rip your spirit out then I’ll banish it
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| Then channel it with ancient manuscripts and amulets
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| Come from Willimantic, kids are speakin' that Spanish shit
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| Don’t throw me on the beat if you don’t want me to damage it
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| I’m on some other shit now, just for the fuck of it
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| I get down like Chris Brown do, but Mo' cut a bitch
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| My money grows on trees, a dough farmer
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| Out for presidents to represent me nigga like Shawn Carter
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| They say my rhymes are sorta like a suicide bomber
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| With marijuana, leave your city smokin' like Osama
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| The Demigod-father here to settle problems and beef
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| All my utensils is metal niggas I’m starvin', let’s eat
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| Handle the job for any faggots thinkin' Godz is sweet
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| The Prodigy that bring Havoc when D.R.'s Mobb Deep
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| It’s Hell On Earth if I don’t cake up much quicker
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| The kid can’t function with no paper, like a printer
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| Like Ninja Turtles with no Splinter, strippers with no tippers
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| Hip hop with no niggas (Yeah right)
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| I got a motherfuckin' plan to get it crackin' fam
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| Have you held up and stuck like a traffic jam
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| Where your bars at? |
| We don’t horse around
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| This ain’t for all that, you could get tortured now
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| You ain’t killin' the game, your Escalades are four cylinder
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| I’m a super villain spittin' villainous slang
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| The Dillinger bang or was it my voice? |
| My weapon of choice
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| Blogs taint my links like they stealin' my chain
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| You ain’t the master but I’m willin' to train
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| Fuck a rapper turned singer, dog I’m feelin' no pain
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| Got my body on earth and my brain on the moon
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| I’m in two places at once like MF Doom, Ah
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| Get ya lifted like cannabis sativa
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| Lyrically foot loose like Canibus in Teva’s
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| Haha, It’s unanimously Ether like when…
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| QB’s speak on the Jay/Nas beef
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| You cop Haggar briefs at TJ Max and Chaps
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| I don’t fuck with that, I’m Polo strapped
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| I don’t know you dawg, so no more dap
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| We the best alive, you couldn’t get this fly
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| With Miyagi, chopsticks, and pesticide
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| «You tell him I’m coming and Hell’s coming with me you hear?! |
| Hell’s coming
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| with me!»
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| Man listen, I’mma show you what you’ve been missin'
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| I spit with conviction like rap’s my religion
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| Smash up your set then I’ll bail like I’m Christian
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| Too late for you to escape with Snake Plissken
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| A man on a mission, man on a wire
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| I’m Denzel bringin' you hell, Man on Fire
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| This shit is gettin' old so I plan to retire
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| But plans often change, now my name’s on your flyer
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| The innovator, old school Demigod originator
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| Stay fresh, keep my notebooks in the refrigerator
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| Dictionary dictator, sorta like a waiter
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| The way I serve emcee’s will make you wanna tip me later
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| No need for the gratuity, I’m tearin' that ass up
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| I never pass up the opportunity
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| To take your shit talk and flush it, I’m no joke
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| Boy ya shoulda known by now, Meezy does it
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| Outside my house is investigators
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| So I invest in gators to rip the chest of a perpetrator
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| Plus the K-9 squad of German Sheppards and Rotts
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| And when they catch you they gon' show you what Heaven is not
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| I’m a man of mystery, put them grams on the triple beam
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| 50 grand when I spit my speech (It ain’t shit to me. Bitch!)
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| No serial on my gun (yea), I got tricks up my sleeve (yea)
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| Frosted Flakes on my blow (aw), Lucky Charms in my weed (what up)
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| Ridiculous but inconspicuous (aww)
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| Crime computers has my name with 'dangerous' in parenthesis (yea)
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| I burst a gasket, I’m off the hinges
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| These are syringes filled with criminal vengeance (aw)
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| I get the dough (get it), I got the props (got it)
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| Sniper on speed dial, I call the shots
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| Alert the marshals, the Feds, yeah the policemen too
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| Just know if faggots didn’t exist then neither would you |