| Yeah
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| How’s everybody doin out there
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| This is Edan the Humble Magnificient
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| And right about now we’re gonna get into this song called Syllable Practice
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| And what that means
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| Is that I’m not gonna say anything significant
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| You know
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| But it’s gonna be battle rhymes
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| And it’s gonna sound pretty
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| So listen to this
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| The renegade radical, demonstrates battle drill
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| Efficiency and dedication through placement
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| Of syllable swords directly where umbilical cords were chopped when
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| Little kids were put up for adoption
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| Torture the orphan, I’ll toss the foster kid
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| Waterlogged monologues and cross your faucet
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| Tap water lyricist, receive a rap slaughter hearin this
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| Perceive the prince where the mirror is
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| Expel tears and sweat to build pyramids
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| Irrigate, irritated orators excel
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| Extend ornaments to torment your tournament
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| Fortify midgets in four to five mintues
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| Organize clinics that’s sure to mortify misfits
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| Mystic, I’m the sort of guy with tricks
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| Shift with the times until the stars burn out
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| Until then building with iller syllable workouts
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| Syllable practice is never a chore, never a bore
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| Immature literature litters the floor
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| I figured you for a bigot before
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| But don’t be bitter and sore
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| Just spit and record meticulous thoughts
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| Syllable practice is never a task
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| Clever attacks left competitors waxed, steady get lax
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| So I fed em a fax, tellin em facts, propellin repetitive tracks
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| And feminie raps to the kennel for snacks
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| The potent practicioner opens rap listeners
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| Broke the facsimile, focus activities
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| Folks collapse, quotes who slap enemies
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| Who pretend to be essentially assembling assemblance
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| Of ambiance that’s seminal to confidence
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| I lend it all to consonants that tenderize your counterfeits
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| The pendelum is bound to flip
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| You’re tremblin and doubtin if
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| Adrenaline amounts to dick
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| When petty methodists attack your semi-definite
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| Tackle any deficit, rap mentally effortless
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| Backpeddling pessimist with venomous predicates
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| Benefit the nemesis with red-cent percentages of sentences
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| The anarchist enters the vortex of unexplored text
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| Forestep, surgically deconstruct, verbally decompose
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| Listen when the deacon flows, even so
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| Syllables are only half the battle
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| The river I deliver’s metaphoric so you never have to paddle
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| Syllable practice is never a task
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| Clever attacks left competitors waxed, steady get lax
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| So I fed em a fax, tellin em facts, propellin repetitive tracks
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| And feminie raps to the kennel for snacks
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| Syllable practice is never a chore, never a bore
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| Immature literature litters the floor
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| I figured you for a bigot before
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| But don’t be bitter and sore
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| Just spit and record meticulous thoughts
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| And I’d like to send this one out
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| To the masters
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| Kool G Rap
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| Big Daddy Kane
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| Slick Rick
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| KRS-One
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| Rakim
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| And there’s several others that are worth mentioning
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| But for now that’s the unofficial Furious 5
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| Cause they inspired me to write lyrics
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| And I’m out |