| I got medical surgeons testing my urine
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| Cuz my shock value got me pissing electrical currents and it’s burning
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| My pen is working overtime, so you gon' rewind
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| 'Til you finally know the rhyme, run home and quote the lines
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| 'Bolic terrorize cyphers like Al-Qaeda
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| And fire rockets like I’m inside the cockpit of a stealth fighter (incoming!)
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| I compel writers to excel, despite the
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| Fact my deal at Viper was like a cell at Rikers
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| My mic line through Midian defies oblivion
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| Ahead of the time I’m living in like the Prime Meridian
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| So why sign and get me in a worthless game where
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| Abel’s gonna murder Cain for his personal gain?
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| When I can brainstorm a hurricane of purple rain
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| 'til it floods the earth’s terrain and bursts in flames
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| The same person remains but my purpose changed
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| And it’s worth the pain in hearing y’all curse my name
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| We let them hands go, we put our feet down
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| We give a damn? |
| No. We give out beatdowns
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| So let your fam know, you wanna blam, go
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| 'cuz we can land those--don't even stand close
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| I’m sitting on the edge, I’m lethal
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| I’m afraid I might flex on people
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| Might box, might put you in a box
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| If you want it we can make it pop quick like blaow!
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| I got half a million rappers catching feelings
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| (Why?) 'Cuz I’m mass appealing like the Sistine Chapel ceiling
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| And the whole time y’all pray Jesus comes
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| I was hearing demons speak in tongues saying «Rob the preacher’s son»
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| Too much Puerto Rican rum keeps me tipsy
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| I’m trying to keep my equilibrium, like eating lithium
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| So, first take the final edit, I can inspire skeptics
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| To get the fuck up like Simon said it
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| I got a street sign accepted line of credit
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| With more props for spitting fire than pyrotechnics
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| And I don’t gotta drive a '65 or Lexus
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| For my CD to drop on more blocks than when you die in Tetris
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| Just as I expected, I’ll get my poetic justice
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| When the cats who run the game are leaving on a set of crutches
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| When they lay screaming in the general public
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| Cuz the metal rusted on their gun and backfired when it busted
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| I never claimed to be a gangsta, but I don’t fire blanks
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| I’m just known for saying crazier shit than Tyra Banks
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| But celebrity stars leave us mentally scarred
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| So I came to save the game like a memory card
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| Cuz enemy squads just pretend to be hard
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| Like their mic booth’s surrounded by penitentiary bars
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| And whenever they rhyme they get federally charged
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| They’re the mafia, and thieves chill wherever they are
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| I don’t believe them. |
| It simply isn’t feasible, the heat you pull
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| Can cease some wolf from turning you little sheep to wool
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| I’m a loose cannon with Duran’s hands of stone
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| Ali’s swagger, Foreman’s right and the heart to stand alone
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| It’s like cancer-prone DNA strands were cloned
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| And gene-spliced with victims at Ground Zero’s landing zone
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| But I’m no hero, I’m a bastard like my parents boned
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| Had a one-night stand and pop’s wouldn’t answer the phone
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| I’ll fight 'til I’m jamming bones with my knuckles breaking
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| So fuck your mother, I’ll punch your mother’s fucking face in
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| I’ll punch your face in to make a muthafuckin statement
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| That I love the underground, I grew up in my mother’s basement |