| Nah nah, check this out, yo
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| I grab my dick, spit, hit the blinkers, split
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| The Dutch Coronas, tokin irons without permits
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| Repetoire long-faced murderer’s the shit
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| Black Bruce Willis mix tape arsonist
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| Esquire, for hire, with total rapid fire
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| Supplier to any Tom Dick Jerry Maguire
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| You chose the right man to get the plan executed
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| I get the situation happening before you shoot it
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| Flow direct-or, surprise you like guess what?
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| The hotter I spit I’m trippin off smoke detectors
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| Who next up to get dressed up, I don’t pop
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| Corks I pop New York with a Doc teleport
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| The art then the craft, will split you in half
|
| I’m a Hurricane you a Miller Genuine Draft
|
| While you push a S-Class I’m riding on a giraffe
|
| Uptown, naked, smoking a bag with hash, check it
|
| Shut your windows and lock your doors
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| Whores scream louder than Barrymore when I pour
|
| And when me and my crew walk we walk on all fours
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| Atomic Dogs, packed in a black Yukon
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| K.I.M
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| Keep It Movin'
|
| John Blaze, I keep y’all niggas rockin for days
|
| Boriquas, to eses, around the ways
|
| My own Mix Tape DJ, I Flex
|
| You don’t have a clue when I’m doin ya who is he I gets busy, word up
|
| Poker player look in my eyes you think I’m bluffin
|
| A five year span turned nuttin into somethin
|
| And don’t get familiar, your whole entourage don’t be
|
| Feelin ya, behind your back they straight killin ya
|
| (Who am I?) The Ex-Headbanger bad motherfucker
|
| High on Friday with Chris Tucker
|
| I be a Headbanger to my very last breath
|
| Even Jermaine Dupri think I’m So So Def
|
| K.A., Shawn Mims, I come from a long line of Geechies
|
| Who didn’t care, blow Camp Lo Luchinis
|
| I transform like Spawn, takes no time
|
| For me to get on, to the break of dawn, word
|
| PMD, the Purple Heart admiral
|
| Blow your spot and left shrapnel
|
| Then escaped in the Benz capsule
|
| Harder than a NFL tackle, back to bite the Big Apple
|
| Southpaw, raw since I was a Sophomore
|
| Before I met Jane in the corridor
|
| The mentor, rapper slash entrepeneur
|
| With more action than Roger Moore
|
| Turn your cabbage into coleslaw, with the four four
|
| Spray Windex on your glass jaw
|
| Shatter it, fuckin with P, is hazardous
|
| Iced out Lazarus started and manufactured this
|
| My Squad’s wild like the Manimals on Geographic
|
| Smash you bastards on some crab shit
|
| EPMD’s the group the Squadron is the click
|
| Transmit, lyrical grit, time to shift cause I’m
|
| Keith Murray, the holder of the boulder
|
| Lyrical analyst mental roller coaster flower
|
| Money folder, track blower, MC overthrower
|
| I flow witcha two at a time, like Noah
|
| I doze off to the beat, on the edge of reality
|
| And kick rhymes in my sleep, and battle Mortality
|
| Finally, every dimension know Keith
|
| Y’all egotistical simple-minded niggas is pitiful and weak
|
| I’ll give you a G a week for life, if you can defeat me
|
| I kick poetry at a high rate of mortality
|
| Aesthetic, lyrical Kraftmatic, smokin
|
| Barkin like a dog, breathin like an asthmatic
|
| Lyrical sculpture create fly rap sculpture
|
| Ninety-eight Headbanger boy, yeah I told ya
|
| Total chaos, helter skelter, run for shelter
|
| Here comes the lyrical brain melter
|
| I be maxin and relaxin, attractin action
|
| Flippin more big ol words than Jesse Jackson
|
| My shit knock don’t it, drive you crazy if you loan it
|
| Man I feel for my opponents
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| Chorus (to end) |