| Hurry up and get your shine
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| You runnin outta time
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| When we start to unload
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| The whole planet unfold like Galvatron
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| Ya never heard of me
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| I’m the one they call Elzhi
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| Known for spittin
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| Blowin put a hole through the mitten
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| Go through your writtens
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| Funk that!
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| That ain’t hittin
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| Change direction, let one out the chamber exit
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| Aim a weapon
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| Don’t walk away i slay pedestrians
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| Cripple your foot
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| Like Kunta Kinte for steppin
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| Hit you and took
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| Your wallet with the big faces
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| Yours could match with it
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| When my foot mash and collapse in it
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| Half of these niggas entertainin, signing the gayest
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| Claimin they hot, they prolly a large percent of the industry flamin
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| Make a nigga wanna pull out his old suit like eddie kane
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| El is back, let the confetti rain
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| Watch me bully these niggas out the spotlight and wrinkle they collar
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| To bring heat to where they sleep and turn these streets to a sauna
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| Smack the right facial the word’ll get around like white labels
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| Trip em off the stage with a mic cable til they ice ankles
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| If i’m at they show, i’m probably there to spit iron
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| Directin hollows to get in they clothes like fish fryin
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| (it's over wit)
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| All that crap on the radio gets tired
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| See all them clowns is watered down like split hydrants
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| Now they breathin is strong
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| And they shakin like a fortune teller with a gun in the mouth and their eyes
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| readin the palm
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| The knife’ll split it with rifles in em like siphon filter
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| Now frightened niggas puffin cigarettes and lightin filters
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| The walkin author piece
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| Snatch the sun out your glimpse
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| Snatch you off the stage and snatch every stud out your fist
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| Then leave your city flayed
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| Then hop on the current like silver surfer
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| Then search for the first person that really want it
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| Yall know better to exchange glow
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| You’re scared to set it off like a criminal with a dagger
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| Tryna sever his ankle from the tether
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| I brainstorm and spent many nights under the weather
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| Gimme mics
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| I shine over niggas like city lights
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| Til they squinty eyed and can’t capture the eclipse
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| Strategic like acid gas booby-trapped mummies wrapped in great Egypt
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| (it's over wit)
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| Wanna scrum black, you don’t want that
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| I punch cats
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| In the stomach, til they hunchback
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| The man, just that
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| I make a nigga run laps like a gun clapped in the air
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| With his feet geared to run fast
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| More bangers to kick your ear in
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| Make you think i’m sick when you hear it
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| But never confuse it with what you sick of hearin
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| Get that head blown just for thinkin it can’t happen
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| I’m a underground head singin the anthem
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| Yo |