| Slow down baby uhh
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| Slow down baby uhh
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| You can get rugged, though, hard like P Trying to play my man but you couldn’t touch me You faggot to comp rapper on a quest
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| You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin’ses
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| So many often wonder if MDs paid
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| You’re goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way
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| 'Cause I clock Gs while you clock Zs And I don’t smoke crack, I smoke M.C.s
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| So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes
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| A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats
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| My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic
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| Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic
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| 'Cause I clock pesos, don’t sell ileyo
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| Another name for cocaine, mi amigo
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| That’s Spanish terminology for friend
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| Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send
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| Bass funk with beats that thump
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| Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk
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| My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'
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| Brother ridin’my tip, L, at the same time thinkin'
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| Damn, how could a brother be so nice
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| 'Cause I’m the capital E-P twice M-D-E twice
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| I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight
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| I like to write but then again some bite
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| While you were bangin’on tables, I was bangin’Snow White
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| Yeah slow down baby
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| The ripper, the master, the overlordian
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| Playing M.C.s like a old accordion
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| I get the inspiration from a necessary station
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| Them sayin’I was vacationin'
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| You can’t cope with your weak-ass throat
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| Tryin''a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes
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| Major M.C.s become minor B flats
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| So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats
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| Here’s your chance to advance, gettin’your stance
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| I’m 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants
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| Pure entertainment, tonight’s your arraignment
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| You’re quilty, face down on the pavement
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| No holds barred, it’s time to get scarred
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| You and your squad better praise the real god
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| The undertaker droppin’thunder on fakers
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| When it comes to lyrics I’m as freaky as Seka
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| So lay the mike down slow and careful
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| 'Cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful
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| A clip to slip in and start rippin'
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| Divin’and dippin’and givin’punks a whippin'
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| Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so
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| I’m down so that you clowns will know
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| Me gettin’burnt or hurt won’t be tolerated
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| I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I’m constipated
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| Yeah slow down baby
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| When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget
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| I master on the beat down, my style’s rugged
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| When I attack the microphone, close the zone
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| Rap sees danger, can’t roam
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| Security is packed and wall to wall can’t fall
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| A rap tank is full so I can’t stall
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| My microphone is filled with premium
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| Any whack M.C. |
| that flexes, I’m creamin''em
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| Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation
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| When I’m rockin’the mike I’m like coastin'
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| Underneath fatigue at my peak
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| You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak
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| New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick
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| Like Bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage
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| Yeah slow down baby
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| Slow down baby |