| Knick knack patty whack give a dog a bone
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| Yo, don’t give him nothing but a microphone
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| Don’t stop, I’m not finished yet
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| You said I’m not the E, you wanna make a bet?
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| Remember this: Lounge, you in the danger zone
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| I figured you would, now leave me alone
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| You pick and you wish on a four-leaf clover
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| To be the E double E over and over
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| You’re intrigued by the way I do my thing
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| (Do what?) Pick up the mic high and make it swing
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| I have the capability to rap and chill
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| Cold wax and tax MCs who tend to act ill
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| It’s like a Dig’em Smack
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| You smack me and I’ll smack you back
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| I get goosebumps when the bassline thumps
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| A sucker MC arrives, now it’s time for lunch
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| When I’m cooling on the scene, I notice one thing
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| I’m not Bounce, so sucker MCs cling
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| I consider myself better than average
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| Yo, I rock the mic like a wild beast savage
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| I’m in the bottling state, I can’t concentrate
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| I make a move like chess, then I yell «checkmate»
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| You know why I get zanier and zanier?
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| Because of EPMD mania
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| When I walk through the crowd I can see heads turning
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| I hear voices saying «That's Erick Sermon»
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| Not only from the women, but from the men
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| You know what? |
| It feels good, my friend
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| I’m the P double E, the Thrilla of Manila
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| Better known as the MC cold killer
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| PMD’s goal is to keep the place jumping
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| And if not we feel we owe you something
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| It’s like lotto, you have to be in it to win it
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| But if the beat is fresh then Diamond J will spin it
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| If J spin it, then it has to be def
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| To make you dance until there’s no one left
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| 'Cause you a customer
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| Praying like a prey when the fox in action
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| I smell blood, no time for maxin'
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| Camouflage in the green, my back is arced
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| Plus you in trouble 'cause it’s after dark
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| My eyes close like Steve Austin, I got you in the square
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| I would let you run, nah, that ain’t fair
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| So I clear my visions so I can spot him
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| Snatch him by the neck and say «Hmmm I got him»
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| My neighbor MCs, you’re in over your head
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| My rhymes are hungry plus they haven’t been fed
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| The process of elimination is quite simple
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| Let you grow like a blackhead and pop you like a pimple
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| Slice you like lettuce, toss you like a salad
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| Revoke your MC license if your rhyme’s invalid
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| As we go on, sucker MCs sound wacker
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| Like a parrot says «Polly want a cracker»
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| Well it was a regular test, nothing we can’t handle
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| At our house they have the mics on the mantel
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| Looked at the DJ and said «May I?»
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| Lit it up like the Fourth of July
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| Because I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee
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| No, I’m the E of EPMD
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| I have a strong point of view on the way things run
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| Just shut up and listen and learn my son
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| Absorb that ass like Bounty, the quicker picker upper
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| To tell you up front, you’re nothing but a sucker
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| The style we’re using, no doubt copastetic
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| You try to bite and yet sound pathetic
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| 'Cause I’mma rhyme like a tailor, flow like a sailor
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| As the beat gets stronger, MCs get staler
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| Not bragging or protagging, surely not fagging
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| MCs surrender, raise the flags and
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| Give up the titles 'cause the signs are vital
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| I keep a voice tuned at a slow and swift idle
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| And you a customer
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| I need a man meal sandwich, yes I need Manwich
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| I feel good, now it’s time to do damage
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| I feel like battling, you know what I mean?
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| When I rhyme one time to release the steam
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| When I grab the mic I get dramatic like an actor
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| You know why I get over? |
| I’m the master
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| I do a show, pack it in 'til it’s clamming up
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| Look for the microphone then I jam it up
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| You said you see me jamming at New York Tech
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| You got one right fella, you deserve a check
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| How did you know? |
| You must have been jocking
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| How would you know the places I be rocking?
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| Don’t follow me fella, every move that I make
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| I’m hostile now so I’ll give you a break
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| Research upon me but don’t go past the limit
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| Here’s my card and on the back is my fan club digits
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| There’s two things to check out in the words that I’m saying
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| Plus listen to the guitar playing
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| The bro is bad, the strings he’s plucking
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| Fire rhyme after rhyme, watch MCs duckin'
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| MCs, it’s the final countdown
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| You look tired, can you go the round?
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| If you can, I’ll slap your hand and give you credit
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| And if not, I’ll turn around and say «Forget it»
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| People, they say that I’m a party pooper
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| That’s not true, I’m a Long Island trooper
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| You a customer |