| Every time you hear me rhyme your eye brow goes up
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| Your confidence goes down but crowd goes nuts
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| Listen, you ain’t seen this much screamin' and recklessness
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| Since the debut screenin' of the Exorcist
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| Rappers better fear me because I’m clearly
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| The Stephen King of the shit but I’m speakin' lyrically
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| There’s no contenders
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| I’m a Tar Heel which means
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| Basically, I’ll stomp a mud hole in ya
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| See y’all ain’t ready for Mr. Boom Box
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| Super tunes knock from the city limits to the boondocks
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| But with my gut feelin' on any production
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| Like I was massaging Jennifer Hudson
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| JS, guess what? |
| He’s killin' the cuts and it’s a sound clash
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| The franchise player, that’s what I’ve been crowned as
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| Who cares if you disagree, this is me
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| So before I blow I’mma snatch up this underground cash
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| Let’s get it
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| I’m comin' outta nowhere and I don’t know where to start
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| Add a star to the flag this is state of the art
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| You keep playin' a role and you’ll be playin' a harp
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| PackFM forever shine like I’m afraid of the dark
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| Listen, the record is here, album of the year
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| Critically acclaimed and I got respect of my peers
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| People like, «PackFM is such a breath of fresh air»
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| Next thing you know they’re tryin' to wipe asbestos up in here
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| I kick flows that’s tighter than the wrestler’s gear
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| To get the hoes butt naked with their legs in the air
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| And I ain’t cheat with these freaks dawg, a minute after I skeet
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| In they mouth I buy 'em dinner cause my kids gotta eat
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| This a, potent rapper with spoken swagger
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| I promise I won’t smack ya if ya don’t get wacker
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| I was on for years and y’all was sleepin'
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| Missin' all of my moves like a broken motion tracker
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| Who wanna flow after?
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| Nobody, no rapper gonna say «yes»
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| Queue JS, it’s time for the scratches |