| Ah yeah, it’s the home of the microphone master, Houdini
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| I’m dope, some don’t believe me
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| Unless, I stress and bust a cap from steel
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| Aim for the dome, show em that I’m real hardcore
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| The underground rapper who’s wrecking
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| I pack a Smith and Wesson on my right section
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| I’m strapped, at all time, Jack
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| Nine mill’s the gat, for a punk chump new jack
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| I must stay focus and keep my mind open
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| The world’s mass confusion, there mad guns smoking
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| For punks trying to get respect and yearning
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| Mess around and catch a bad one from Erick Sermon
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| I’m serious, boy, but not Jermaine Jackson
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| I also have a 12 gauge shotgun for action
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| So chill, back the hell up and get a grip
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| Get off that, thinking that you’re all that real quick
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| Like the Rude Boys said
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| It’s written all over your face, punk, nobody’s safe
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| Nobody’s safe chump, so keep your doors locked (4x)
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| (PMD)
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| It’s the hardcore rap music that make your ears ring
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| Droids of funk, produce a song to make my fans sing
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| Singing, swinging, hum along, thump my rap song
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| I bet I get wreck on a DL, then the P’s gone
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| Poof, no phonebooth, cape, or tight suit
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| Dress in all black, black skullcap, black down goose
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| To hide the mossberg, word, wit the pistol grip
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| Squeeze em quick, so use caution wit the loose lip
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| Cuz loose lips sink ships, don’t be the ship to catch a nine clip
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| I ain’t going out on some bull----
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| Bankshot, corner pocket, now watch me rock it
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| Can’t mock the rap style so, boy, stop it
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| (So what’s the name) John Doe, 'K it’s a slow flow
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| Swift Smith, crazy, the boy’s loco
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| Like Neon Deion Sanders, call him primetime
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| (It's the new style) time to get mine
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| Cuz nobody’s safe in the fast pace of the rap race
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| So keep your hoodies on and your boots laced
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| Now I’m out, beaming back to the boon dox
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| Nobody’s safe chump, so keep your doors locked |