| Laughter ceases after masterpieces slash your thesis
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| Questioning my passion is like asking Jesus if the crucifixion hurt
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| Flirting with ears, but choosing visions first
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| I stretch 'em out until they snap to prove that long division works
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| A strong incision bursts your bladder
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| Filthy rhyming prosecutor
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| Never-ending thirst for data
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| Salvaged from the lost computer
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| Immaculate, verses scatter
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| We tackle and toss a loser off a pedestal created by actions regrettable
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| Packing a vegetable for malnutrition
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| Rap-mutation, advocators, fact-debaters catch a bad one from a tractor-trailer
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| Even avid masturbators can’t relate to my passion at mic clutch
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| Crashin' a nightclub, simply to spite fucks who came to dance
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| My brain is pants you herbs are legs
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| I earn while some prefer to beg I deal with ignorance
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| Therefore, to turn a head is difficult
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| Like being drunk while parallel-parking a car
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| Broken pieces of glass on your floor after I fart in a jar
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt
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| Y’all don’t know jack, no if’s or maybe’s»
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt»
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt»
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| «Now who’s my first victim? |
| Come get some of this»
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| «MC's you suck, you know how that go»
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| «Yo, this is a fact, handing my beat over»
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| I got the bald-headed crown with a dope swirl
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| Hot enough to make a nymphomaniac’s toes curl
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| Lounge with showgirls in the uncharted lands of the West Pacific islands
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| Hypnotized by horizons
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| Evil mistress, black widow of the brimstone
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| Skeletons in every closet, close to the window
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| Rose petals, French Dutchess, with gold medals
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| On the coldest meadow follows the ghost that goes (ohhh)
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| And when I was young my moms thought I had a disturbance
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| Cause she always found me under the cabinet drinking detergent
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| Murderous Copernicus, Prometheus inserted it
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| The way I worded it left 'em tumbling through the turbulence
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| I got a nasty dropkick, catch flies with chopsticks
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| Kidnap your siblings then take them for hostage
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| Your girl’s not a chicken head she’s more like an ostrich
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| Smells like armpit, foot and ass, and dog shit
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt
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| Y’all don’t know jack, no if or maybe’s»
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt»
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| «You sucka MC’s, you don’t enjoy rapping»
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| «MC's you suck, that’s without a doubt»
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| «Give you a chance, to say your petty rhymes»
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| «MC's you suck, you know how that go»
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| «I wish you’d hurry up cause you’re wasting my time»
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| Laughter happens after master craftsmen practice smashing clowns
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| I pass your rapping class and snatch the cap and gown
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| I trap a noun and catch a verb while running laps around
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| The pachyderm who hasn’t learned the basic laws of planet Earth
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| I take your jaw and smash it through the simple principles of amateur
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| elimination
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| Pattern your alliteration after mine?
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| Mastermind my pattern writing
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| Vocalize the battle writing
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| Localize the folks who try to socialize for ladder-climbing
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| NPC, degrees, and pattern sine and sequence quantization
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| Concentration might alleviate your frequent contemplation
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| Constant patience, do you know how badly that I want a spaceship?
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| Modulation causes placement of assailance on surveillance
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| Wander aimlessly amongst a mass of slavery
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| Until a brave MC (through bravery)
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| Decides to call his name to me, it’s all in vein you see
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| When I decapitate his brain and season it for morning breakfast
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| While listening to Death mix
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| Out |