| Last year record companies were chumping me
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| But now like chicks they all be up on me
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| And me so horny, I hit 'em like a groupie
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| Snatch off my hat, wash my dick, and keep it moving
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| Showing and proving on a day to day basis
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| I rep New York and a million different places
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| State to state, country to country
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| My skills are legend in the style of poetry
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| I’ve paid my dues to this game, word to mother
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| East New York hops, it gets no rougher
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| Baby brother been puffing buddha and blunts since '85
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| Before the fake motherfuckers started perpetrating live, I’ve
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| Achieved mad props though niggas roll around in jeeps
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| I ride the A Train and get mad beeps
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| So when we bang bang boogie out jumps my boot knocks
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| Chicks comes in flocks when D.R.S. |
| rocks, Glocks
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| Are not needed it’s all done with the mind
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| I neutralize suckers because I’m alkaline
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| I could go on for days speaking 'bout my clout
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| So Lil Dap snatch the mic and choke the motherfucker out
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| No, you can’t hide from jail and you can’t hide from the street
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| Lyrics do get deep when you walk in the east
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| A unique sound from the underground made the brothers unite
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| I’m slapping pound to pound with real niggas, ai’ght?
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| Ain’t nothing changed but the weather, rain, storm or whatever
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| You pour the forty on the ground for the brothers who ain’t around
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| Break it down with the flow as I walk through the ghetto
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| A nigga said he couldn’t do it 'til the shit hit the fan
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| Last year I was the man ripping up every jam
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| So it’s your hobby, nothing serious 'til things get rough
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| I’m stepping rugged and tough, and bitches won’t get enough
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| Of Lil Dap, what’s that? |
| Fuck around, you get slapped
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| Schizophrenic with rhyme plus we’re well organized
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| Make the chicks say 'ow' and the brothers say 'ho'
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| You can’t tell a motherfucker what to do with his life
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| Niggas tend to live trife, so I react with a mic
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| It’s the end of the time so I got to gets mine
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| Ayo 'Ru, what’s your function? |
| Meet me at Broadway Junction
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| Before I start to get in it, better yet I just kick it
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| Ayo son, if you’re with it Guru starts to flip it
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| Uh with my .38 five shot I bust a bumboclaat
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| He talks dumb a lot so him shall drop
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| I got the clout, all you pussy rappers be out
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| From the get go I let go shit to make you petro
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| Watching fly niggas show you how to rhyme asshole
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| You know the motherfucking situation
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| So get down, get down with the Gangstarr Foundation
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| Now I’mma touch on reality, chumps can’t fuck with me
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| And all the honeys be loving me
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| My style be kicking crazy butt
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| Wannabes on their knees licking crazy butt
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| Your girl pays me but ain’t no need to try and stop her
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| I’m Big Poppa steer your girl then I’ll drop her
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| 'Cause she be working on my nerves
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| And yo I got more game than the bitch got curves
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| I’m like Gambino, the slick head honcho
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| Ill kid ready to wreck mics pronto
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| And I know, I’ll break your back with my rap like smack
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| Because I’m all that
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| And so the next time when you’re wishing for my downfall
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| I’ma come back to drown y’all
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| With stupid lyrics relative to a bloodbath
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| And stay the fuck out my path |