| Sit high as I ride on rhymes
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| Every line’s like life on line, like life on line
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| So every time I sit, write rhymes
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| I write rhymes like life on line, cause my life on line
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| And since life’s on line when I write these rhymes
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| It’s no time for lyin', no time for lyin'
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| So allow me to humbly chime
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| That when I write rhymes I don’t write, man I just rhyme
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| Cause the rhymes come out my mind
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| Defined by divine design
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| And now’s my time, mostly talkin' to myself
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| When people think I’m out my mind, out my mind
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| Cause it’s in my heart, there lives my art
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| Like Joan of Arc, I’ll be a martyr, like they marked her
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| My only faulter, I didn’t alter
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| When I leave I see a flyin' saucer
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| Before I sleep, read the works of Chaucer
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| Pretty young stripper girl, I up cost her
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| We make love, then sip on cough syrup
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| Shouts out to my wife and our mistress
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| Gifts you get when you are gifted
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| Bold and daring like Keith Haring
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| Crack is wack, now crack is back
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| Cause every time I flip a word
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| It’s something like I’m flippin' on a bird
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| I got the whole hood rippin' a pack
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| And every fien with a rock and niggas flip, pocket got attacked
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| That’ll send his ass to cardiac
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| And that is a fact, stuntin' like you Hollywood Africans
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| That walk around, don’t know how to act
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| Don’t know how to act
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| Jean Michel Basquiat, you are not
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| Just a bitin' nigga that went pop, that went pop
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| You just a bitin' nigga that went pop, that went pop
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| You ain’t no Biggie or Pac
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| From the era where your pen game real
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| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
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| Welcome to the jungle
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| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble
|
| From the era where your pen game real
|
| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
|
| Welcome to the jungle
|
| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble
|
| Passion of Christ with the passion of Pac
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| Surveillance on every ave, every block
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| Big brother, hoverin' above
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| Kids catchin' bodies, leavin' prints, no gloves
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| Cashin' in on every inmate
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| Tryna stay focused, I gotta keep my pen straight
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| Fuck a federal vacation at Penn State
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| We got no plane cause we get weight
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| Most blind to the signs of the times
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| Tryna elevate minds with the lines in my rhymes
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| Chuck D with a little Pusha T
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| Against all odds, nigga what it’s gon' be?
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| I’m tryna see what Marshall saw
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| Pray it all happen 'fore martial law
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| One life to live and the time’s steady tickin'
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| The people want more so the nine’s steady lickin'
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| Educated street nigga, heavy kush roller
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| The government a virus like ebola
|
| From the era where your pen game real
|
| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
|
| Welcome to the jungle
|
| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble
|
| From the era where your pen game real
|
| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
|
| Welcome to the jungle
|
| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble
|
| This is what I put my heart in
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| Livin' life behind bars, no pardon
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| Go ahead and act hard then
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| I’ve been gettin' at 'em since Eve was in the garden
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| The flow about to hit you up
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| Split you up, the coroner will pick you up, bitch
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| I’m livin' like a pair of virgin twins
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| Attached to each other, I don’t give two fucks
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| Nah, cause y’all wild as shit
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| You rappers sound like a pile of shit
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| Fucked the pile of shit, and then gave birth to a pile of shit
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| You pile of shit
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| But I’m the Chief Rocka that keep vodka
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| The heat cocker, rock a beat proper
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| The boy colder than a meat locker
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| The street chopper, it sound like a beat boxer
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| Enemies stay steppin'
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| When they meet a weapon, they gon' see their reverend
|
| When they see the gates of Heaven, it’s 187
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| Me and DJ EFN, we stay reppin'
|
| From the era where your pen game real
|
| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
|
| Welcome to the jungle
|
| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble
|
| From the era where your pen game real
|
| Givin' niggas that Scorsese feel
|
| Welcome to the jungle
|
| Titans of the game, you’re small, remain humble |