| Look up in the sky,
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| It’s a crow!
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| It’s a bat!
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| No, it’s super nigger!
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| Confused, some say I can’t lose,
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| All a brotha ever hear is bad point of views,
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| Try to hold me back jack, breaking the chain of pain,
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| Cuz the rhythm be bumpin’like a migrane.
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| Never knew I really had a clue about fiction or fact,
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| But I got it like that.
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| From dawn till dusk, you might see me bust,
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| A brain or two, I make it entertainin’you.
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| Commercial, universal, don’t matter,
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| Every one dies when my shotgun scatters.
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| When my heavy metal boot drops, the floor shakes,
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| I’m comin’through like an earthquake.
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| You can’t take or make or break me,
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| Can’t shake me, don’t try to fake me.
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| Many don’t believe, I will achieve,
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| Like Ali Baba and the forty thieves.
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| I’ma get mine, you must be out ya mind,
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| Cuz in the ninties, acid rap is about time.
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| We got some nonbelievers out there (2x)
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| Buck wild, and out on my island,
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| In your Alpine, I’m free stlyin'.
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| But I’m wicket, I’m wicket, I’m wicket so why don’t you kick it?
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| To feel the force of a new breed, you might bleed.
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| Knockin’niggas out like forty thieves,
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| Forty thieves in the tiempo, I go loco,
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| Nine milimeter point blank or a solo.
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| Devilish, but still hell of this,
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| Make you wanna not want to go the week you go home.
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| I’m mystified, I won’t lie,
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| Some can’t handle it so they die.
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| Boils and bubbles of trouble brewin’what you doing?
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| Microphone massacre, MC’s screwin’around,
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| I don’t waste time, for all the suckas,
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| I’ll see you at the finish line.
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| Kick that shit!
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| From Lucifer, I give juice to ya,
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| Been rockin’all my life so I’m used to ya.
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| I got wanna be carbon copies that bite,
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| Of pop rock suckas who dog the lime light.
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| But now you’ve been a witness,
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| The unholy strictly business.
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| For all the fools who test me, don’t stress me,
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| Or the cops will have to come and arrest me,
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| For murder one, but I’ve just begun,
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| Grab a mic cord 'round your neck and scream Red Rum,
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| You’ll be headless like Max Headdrom,
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| And I’m here to cause a little bedlam.
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| Magical, still tragical.
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| It all started out about a year ago.
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| Many try to stop me, and drop me,
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| Now they all wanna jock me.
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| The radios won’t play me,
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| It don’t faze me,
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| I’m no sell out baby!
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| And we still got some nonbelievers. |