| (All right boy, ah man
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| Give you your rights, here we go again
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| You have the right to remain silent
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| Hey Ish what’s goin' on? |
| Chill, chill it’s cool
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| Give up the right to remain silent
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| Anything you say can and will be used against you
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| Whatever man, whatever
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| Do you understand each of these rights I’ve explained to you?
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| Oh, like I ever had rights, kid
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| Do you wish to give up the right to remain silent?
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| Hell yeah)
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| So now let’s let into in my pocket pack
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| Pummel and I epic black ethic lack, I walk again
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| You were shade gray, come display
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| Mazes in black fire in the west
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| Shit is shakin' it’s fly
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| I’m in lookies when I pushin' vinyl time
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| Up the forts, where I’m caught
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| And my thought to shakin' up a few loose
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| Now I let my cause shoo KRS one
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| 'Cause we fade in and out, are you swingin' or coming?
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| I’m solid on this thought, this ain’t livin'
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| It’s heavy every set back, even when I was a shorty
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| Now we cross you and your foe, thrice
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| Check me in another place space enjoy
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| Nothing you could server could ever ace me, boy
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| Fat laces I’m out fat and no maybe’s
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| That’s right, baby
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| I got Harlem on my mind, Darren on my back
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| Brooklyn in my blood and butters on the track
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| I got insect thoughts, catch the cool ways
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| Clouds of purple haze keep me in a daze
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| The jazz, the jive, the poetry
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| The style, the lingo, the bags of equality
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| Many different things tryin' to get to me
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| But in a world of hard rock, I keep my humility
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| The funkanaut from the kingdom of not
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| With galactic sure shot, they can’t, won’t, don’t stop
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| Flock to the rhythm I bring
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| Sing songs call survival on the Mingus revival
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| Scored the bass hit with my bugged out clique
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| It’s doodlebugm give me love for a visual script
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| Sip the groove juice, it’s kinda rough
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| Sevens never bluff, I had enough, eleven
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| In the east I rose, froze in the pose
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| Of a land diseased, flows that coolest summer breeze
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| Nikki did Kevin braids, we got four in the 'Lac
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| As we swoop at Warp Seven, holler don’t crowd cats
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| 'Cause look corpie is the color and butter he do it low
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| All you hear is poppers and rubber I’m sayin', oh
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| Man we keep it poppin' on hot day shit
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| I got the fish eggs droppin' any block you dip
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| And I dazzle that mood with the cool out fool
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| Easin' semi-swerve to the curb like the do
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| I’m fro, blow, you got that right
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| Groove with soul and I’m still spinnin'
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| Cross 110 and indicate 'em somethin' else
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| Blackest space, deepest sea
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| My shit’s on natural high
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| The man can’t put no thing on me
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| So dig me when my mind stretch out, it’s astro black
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| Time reachin' end to end, nappy afro blue
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| We’d swoop and fight in, out the corners
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| Do my thang like you be with a nigga
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| That’s right, show you right, all right
|
| That’s right, show you right, all right
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| That’s right, show you right, all right |