| You can’t rap like me
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| Uhh, Sy Scott, Def Squad (yeah)
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| Listen, ain’t playin no games man
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| Yeah, whattup
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| Give or receive, and give or take, I’m an Indian giver
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| I take back what’s given to the getter from the giver
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| Nigga give way, give up, you never get a glimpse
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| Of the Glimmer Man, glimmer glitter when I trek your body shiver
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| Rhythm I’m rippin whatever I can get a grip of
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| Just to get a giggle, this literature’s ishkabibble
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| And damn, dun-duh dun-duh dun-duh, the shark is in the weater
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| Dun-duh dun-duh dun-duh got him right where I want him
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| Now I’mma get him, Scott crack legbones like a wishbone
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| Snap your nosebone witcha chinbone
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| Break your legs and snap your shinbone
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| Put your skullbone jawbone right next to your gall stones
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| 'til y’all all know
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| I got the hypothalamus of a hippopotamus
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| Squashin the retardapuss when we tidal rush
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| Too good to be true like fairy tales come true again
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| You wish you was me but woke up and you was you again
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| Sy Scott, you can’t rap like me
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| You can’t murder a rhyme or kill a track like me
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| You can’t, bust aim or hold a gat like me
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| Flow hundred percent, you can’t rap like me, nah
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| This here’s somethin stupid for the eardrum
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| You wanna hear somethin slick son, here it come
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| You can ask Dr. Phil, I’m ill
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| I’mma kill you, then kill them, then «Kill Bill»
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| Yeah — word to Vivica, I hemorrhage a pile
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| Drop the temperature, 'til the coroner start zippin ya
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| B-ball player, I shoot from the perimeter
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| Two shot, three shot, all into ya
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| On mics I does my thing
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| Agua, I flow like Poland Spring
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| Not from Maine, I’m from New York mayne
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| I’m the Bandit, in the black Maybach in transit
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| 300 pound nigga, hold weight, stop — hold, wait
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| E-Dub the great there’s no mitake, yeah
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| The untakeable, unshakeable, you uncapable
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| I’m Bruce Willis, I’m «Unbreakable» — uh-huh
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| You can’t replace the unplaceable
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| You can’t face off, with the unfaceable
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| Even the matador can’t face the bull
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| I’m the raging bull, you wanna shoot, pull
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| E, you can’t rap like me
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| The boy with the slow flow you can’t rap like me
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| Bang bang, you can’t shoot a gat like me
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| My Squad is Def, and you can’t rap like Khari
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| I throw three like Bobby Jackson, at 'em
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| I’m O.G. |
| like Bobby Johnson, stomp 'em
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| Hold G like Bumpy Jonson, on 'em
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| Read flip and beat kids like Joe Jackson
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| My flow jackin, clack clack, I’m sharp like the claws
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| Of Hugh Jack', with hands packin, make you an ex-man
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| Time for some action, and matter of fact
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| Go exercise or be ordained to explore pain
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| And explain, why you puttin extras on
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| In this excess I throw a hex through your headset
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| Settle down 'fore I set it off on the set
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| Let’s say Santiago is the best you heard yet (yep)
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| I know, my flow, oh my God, get so, heated
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| That MC’s stay away like I got heebie jeebies
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| Ask G’s if I G, hit the G spot on your queen
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| Kings get they heart or crown ripped apart now
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| Yeah, you can’t rap like me
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| You snap back, get back, smack a wack MC
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| Santiago, you ain’t got the stats like me
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| To get busy and tap dance on tracks like me |