| I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line
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| Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme
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| Can’t hold it back, inside the mind
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| Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time
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| BANG, set it, off with the funk
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| When I’m on the mic kid don’t pop junk
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| Cause then I come at you, just like Thriller
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| You’re like the milk and I’m the serial/cereal, KILLA
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| That’ll take your mic and your track and pimp it
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| Have you swimmin in your blood like Mr. Limpit
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| Don’t come around here with the wack flow
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| I swoop down on niggas like a black crow
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| Aww shit! |
| Now it gets scarier
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| Timberland boots to your genital area
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| Kick the whole Ku Klux Klan out the South
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| Nah punk I won’t take the gat out your mouth
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| Oh, no, aim for you chest
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| Bang! |
| I’m on you like a full court press
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| You can’t get the mic 'cross the half court line
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| Try to concentrate but you’re LOSING YOUR MIND!
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| NON-STOP SHIT, I’m in like Flynn
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| Don’t interrupt, naw kid you can’t win!
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| The only bright side, I reach for the micraphone;
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| You get free parking in the handicapped zone
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| And a bro-ken back, I don’t care
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| Then I put a 'boot' on your fucking wheelchair
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| I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line
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| Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme
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| Can’t hold it back, inside the mind
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| Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time!!!
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| I gotta get mine in the here and the now
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| Brothers wanna flow but they don’t know how
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| Niggas don’t know about stayin up late
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| While I was in my room kid you was on a date
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| Voice got hoarse, but I didn’t quit
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| Freestyled til my breath smelled like shit!
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| Now folks from the old days wanna call
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| But I ain’t a star so I know I won’t fall
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| Then it gets worse, when the blood boil
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| Crumble emcees like aluminum, foil
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| Royal? |
| here to rock a new riddle
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| School em on the Ave. like Dr. Doolittle
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| Klepto, schitzo, take all, kids though
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| Let the Glock 9 be the Pepto-Bismol
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| For the diarrhea of the mouth, no witness
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| The punk over there better mind his own business
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| I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line
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| Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme
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| Can’t hold it back, inside the mind
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| Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time!
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| No I can’t hold it back, representin I. Y
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| And I don’t WHY niggas try cause they die
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| Everytime I see a fuckin stop sign get stressed
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| Blast suckers off like Elliot Ness
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| Whoa yes, relievin my stress, with the ease
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| I got, knowledge of myself, three-sixty degrees
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| Another emcee wanna test with the game
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| I lock and load the mic with the lyrics from my brain
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| INNN-SANNNE, got to get wild and fuckin crazy
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| My style is blowin freeze, so you punks couldn’t trade me in
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| For another, word life to your mother
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| Instead of using dope kid I’d rather use butter
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| To ex-plain the flav' with the track the Dred made
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| Shit is on the real all the herbs get slayed now
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| Taste my freshness, it’s good and you can bet this
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| Rhyme is great so why are you sweatin this
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| Micraphone, a kid and a whore as well
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| Tell you in your fuckin face to go to H-E-L-L
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| That’s Hell if you know how to spell
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| I put my foot up yo' ass and don’t you try to rebel
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| With both anchors I’m good to please like hold em
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| Get on your knees and suck my whole scrotum
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| And kiss my ass, cause son, you might as well face it
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| Your rhymes ain’t shit so, go ahead and taste it
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| But not with a crazy straw cause now you’re my little whore
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| Add flavor and spice to fuck it up just a little more
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| I crunch and munch get mad, and get heated
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| Don’t talk I’m on the hawk, Moonwalk nigga Beat It
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| But, wait, I got more, UP just my sleeve
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| Cause I want you junkheads to feel and receive
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| A broken neck, I’m OUT to wreck, so WHAT the heck
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| Here’s the broom and just sweep the deck
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| You can’t hold me back, Dred Scott is my witness
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| Cause I be Da Grinch that stoled your whole Christmas
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| And what that means is, you don’t have the gift
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| Now why you wanna riff cause I’m lightin up the spliff
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| To get blunted at times yo, I sip on the forty
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| Back in Farmer Queens, where people called me shorty
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| I used to the work, the niggas called it dirt
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| At times I’d get SWAYZE OTHER TIMES I’D GO BEZERK
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| It’s Da Grinch and the Dred, track attack and it’s fat
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| Don’t know how to act, yo we can’t hold it back
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| Break it down, break it break it down LIKE THIS… |