| (As we go a little something like this
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| Hit it --] Slick Rick)
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| (Like this)
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| Now I’mma pump a new record up loud like thunder
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| Get your minds goin, so you all wonder
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| How does he do it, grab his mic and run through it
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| Over to the public, so suckers can chew it
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| Kut Terror, terrorize wanna-be stars
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| While I rip through my rhymes like a rocket to Mars
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| The man keeps goin, strong forever
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| Over bumps and bruises, but loses never
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| I gotta move, I can’t sit too long
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| Cause if I’m idle, I start thinkin somethin is wrong
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| Cause I’m a warrior, can’t be beat and won’t lose
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| Rap is the life and profession I choose
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| Can’t take a rest, I’m still in a rush
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| I’m out to conquer and just cold crush
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| Condition my mind and keep both eyes open
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| Even at night when I’m restin I’m scopin
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| See, once I start, I gotta finish up
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| Nobody leave until the record is cut
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| When I aim, I aim for the stars, and I won’t miss
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| Cause I’mma kick it like this
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| (Like this)
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| People all over had a serious doubt
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| That I could grab the microphone and burn it out
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| But microphone-burnin is a serious sport
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| So I burned every rapper that played on the court
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| Terror’s a Kut Terrorist, seem to scare
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| A lotta deejays gettin paid out there
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| They hear about speed and a acurate scratch
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| So bring the whole batch cause no one can match
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| Quality shows and the style of the rhyme
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| But when a scratch track hits the charts are all mine
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| Cause I work hard, and never was a quitter
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| Like Les Foxxx is a homerun hitter
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| If you follow the intro, you know what I’m sayin
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| See that I’m business, and I ain’t playin
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| Light shines on the man that you see, and you’re present
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| Those that are jealous are mere peasants
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| When a child is born, he’s already a striver
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| You make him like the Foxxx, a soul survivor
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| I shoot for the stars at the top, and won’t miss
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| Yeah, and I’mma kick it like this
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| (Like this)
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| Now gettin on the top ain’t hard to do
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| And if I gotta ruin reps, I’mma do that too
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| Cause I’mma take out the maddest, outrap the baddest
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| With just my mind, slim up the fattest
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| I’m on a mission to house competition
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| Fredddie the Foxxx got you hopin and wishin
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| You could grab your mic and knock me out the box
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| Come on — not the Foxxx
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| Now here’s an example of poetry in motion
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| Grab your trunks cause I’mma flow like the ocean
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| You rappers ain’t ready yet, Freddie is right
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| I pump about a million watts through a mic
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| Keep you dancin all night till your feet start achin
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| Bass pumps loud till your bones start breakin
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| Security runs because the walls start splittin
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| I’m tryina explain to you how hard I’m hittin
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| Girls out front can’t wait to touch me
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| Fellas look mad, but they won’t rush me
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| Keep it all cool, and the jam won’t miss
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| And I keep kickin it like this
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| (Like this)
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| The next century waits for a man with a new style
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| And I get greeted with a hug and a big smile
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| Solo, I walk forever in a world of my own
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| Without guns and knives, just a microphone
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| Travel the land to see rappers that step to me
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| In my quest for fame, are bound to get done, you see
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| I won’t shoot the next man down until
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| He gets disrespectful or acts real ill
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| Then I gotta smash like a roller steamin
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| Doin it like this while you keep dreamin
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| Rappers that press me know Foxxx is a top man
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| Cause I rule the mic and enthrall with a strong hand
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| My rap juices flow like a river
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| Around your heart and down past your liver
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| You can’t take the pain cause it’s rough
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| Screamin to your partners, you had enough
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| You wanna step to Foxxx, then you like to get dissed
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| Cause I’mma kick it like this |