| Ladies and gentlemen, title match up here
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| Over here now in the little dibby-dibby corner
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| Is the lightweight, Bantonweight, can’t test us
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| And in de big corner is heavyweights
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| Step through kay great
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| And my name is Cockney «O» Dire and I first come through fire
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| But first, listen!
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| I hear the sound of the beat in the background, I hear the sound of the big fat
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| beat
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| I hear the sound of the heavyweight beatdown, I hear the sound of the EQ beat
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| Give me an «F» (F!), give me and «R» (R!)
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| Give me a double «E», «S-T-Y-L-E» (E!)
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| Give me an «F» (F!), give me and «E» (E!)
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| Give me a double «L», «O-W-S-H-I-P» (P!)
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| Mickey Mouse motherfucker!
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| Bringin' me under, sendin' me under This is a freestyle
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| Moving while I’m under bring your mother down
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| To the solo bliss so watch my lips motherfucker!
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| Certain MC’s get them flow from the radio
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| You know some poets get their flow from the biblio
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| Take a look at audio big body on de grace and can’t find
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| Them kinda rhymers in de parka make ya dizzy
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| You may think you other MCs sound the same on the crazy
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| You see the question answer, Cockney «O» Dire
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| Like a water to a melon and a melon to a vine
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| I’m not Shabba but I got the remedy for your mind
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| Description of the prescription for the fools that won’t quit
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| Constipated scare and stop the bullshit
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| Yo I’m done but wait
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| Here comes the next heavyweighter
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| 28 beats, 12 bars, 320 milliseconds
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| For the wreck that I just suggested and left you questioned
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| How many sessions must I be blessing
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| The herbal essence is the best when your shit is kept in
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| With beautiful lessons I’m stressing the rest
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| The rest was long my alarm clock took care of the rest
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| I woke up to choke I broke the scope
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| To know the quotes of heavyweights and heavy coats
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| With leads of dope 777 days away
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| I’m amazed to say, nobody pays to play
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| I got a fever and you called us paramedics
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| All of them tryna find out where your head is, heavyweights!
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| Break it up, break it up boys, ok now listen up good
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| I want nobody hitting below the belt
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| I don’t want no biting anybody’s rhymes
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| I want you to keep it clean
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| Now go back in there and mix it up
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| And come out stylin'!
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| I’m an MC and I’m in when when the rhythm’s given
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| I’m Choppin-it-up, choppin-it-up again
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| It’s never just me and my sin, represents the nemesis
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| Choppin-it-up, choppin-it-up again
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| I’m stylin' till they say, when I when I violent type sway, hey
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| Backpain, there’s gotta be a better way out than the lottery
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| The odds of me hittin' a one in a million
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| No need to be keepin' myself in an unhealthy fantasy world
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| I’m choppin-it-up with stylin', choppin-it-up with stylin'
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| Choppin-it-up with style again
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| With the gold or global war to swordfight bite
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| attack swinging the battle axe
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| Raised in the hood but so what
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| All about the props you got to get so get ‘em up
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| Bold motherfucker straight from LA, jack
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| Ain’t pushin' no daisies, niggas gotta hacked
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| Nightly, daily, even on holidays
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| With my men claims bodies nowadays
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| Quicker than the white man did, look what you did
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| Twisted my style you ain’t got much time to live
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| Tired of if you got my back
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| Matter of fact it might be you come off the jack
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| Timber, timber all of them must rhyme
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| Catch me as I clean, watch me as I climb
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| Is this really making sense to me, Myka Nyne
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| Seems to be, heads be, wait
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| Wait a minute, you shouldn’t touch me yet
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| I jump by the radio metro proof, I might go
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| Ooh, ooh uh-huh yea I can do that too, brute!
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| Send you with strength, rebels Tasmanian
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| Jasmanian micrified mic will freeze microphone appreciate, shazam
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| Every sucker dj’s start urinating in their dun-da-duns (underwear)
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| So wicked and the waiting the drum to come
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| How ill so chill, also go home, boy
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| Maybe sock you in your grill!
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| Alright, break it up, break it up boys and come in here
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| I wanna explain the rules to you
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| I want none of this, none of-, none of this-
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| None of this, none of-, and none of that!
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| (Yo couch, but I don’t know what to do)
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| Snap out of that boy, snap out of it
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| Those heavyweights will knock you to tomorrow, Rock!
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| I’m a mastermind of a disaster sign
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| Coming near racheteer interfere bastard’s swine, it’ll appear |
| Rhyme travel is a mothefucker whooka-whucker
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| Teardrops falling on my
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| Got a headache, got a glitch
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| Glitch, glitch, glitch in my neck
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| Shake rattle n roll, down below, wanna know
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| Are you single
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| To mingle, bilingual
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| Believe in the emerald ring-o tingle, jingle slogan’s
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| Summoned by the King-o queen o bingo Hogan’s Heroes
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| Zoro swinging from the trees mysteries tomorrow
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| Well he’s a jolly good skeezer
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| Scalliwag skank gank thank you, I’d like to drink you, drank you Aren’t you the
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| person who I think you are
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| I thought I shank’d them all.
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| (Stall, stall)
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| Style messiah hot like a volcano with fire
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| Iodine uttering idioms syllables synonym words
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| Criminals die for the sake of
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| Rhetoric leeches biting
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| How many suckers left, give of death
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| So wax that ass, it’s Russian rouletting
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| Me my double-F Freestyle Fellowship heavyweights
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| Looking for watch your snakes
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| The studious idiots
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| all dark in the skies with your
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| Look in my eyes till you vibe
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| goodbye
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| Excuse me pal, is that your style?
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| Pick it up and put it in your pocket now
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| Put it down, I’ll take it to the lost and found, look
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| Your peeing on yourself seeing me style in the mirror
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| Cause I’m you, you dont get it do you?
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| Can I take a deep breath
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| Maybe I should rap like this
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| Exhale one time
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| Breathing functions fine say G is it me or did you pee
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| Oooweee!
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| Out of my mind design
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| Define my E-Y-E
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| Chronic!
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| Now lay me down to sleep, I pray to the Lord my soul to keep
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| And if I should die before I wake, I pray to the Lord my soul to take
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| My mind and my heart, my soul and my body parts
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| Take my whole anatomy, can it be real
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| A sequel, one individual lyrical prose
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| Stalkin' and walkin' the ghetto
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| Smokin' the funk in the afro, hangin' the wack foes
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| Kickin' the black bros down
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| to maintain the grip
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| With the name and the fame to obtain the clips
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| Physically fit, what’s the orthodox
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| Rush the xerox, paradox to stop the wicked conspiracy
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| With a 9 mm, a Glock and a MAC-10
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| Watch for my partner John (Yo Doctor Bombay!)
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| parmesan, my legacy lives on!
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| My legacy lives on!
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| Cause we all heavyweights |