| «Now what you hear is not a test»
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| «Now what you hear is not a test»
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| «Now what you hear is not a test»
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| «Now what you hear is not a test»
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| Well goodness gracious, let me just take this
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| Time out to pull a rhyme out, and update this
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| For you and yours, simply because
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| Some MCs have luck but suck
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| So I pluck 'em like feathers on the back of a chicken
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| 'Cause I’m mad like a pit when my man says, «sic 'em»
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| Positive is the mindstate, but it could still mean that
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| I will kick a ill, malicious like mean rap
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| Suckers they forced me to knock 'em all out and
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| They think they know things like what I’m about and
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| They try to analyze, criticize, scandalize
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| The outcome is death, don’t ask me to sympathize
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| Realize that I’m not to be played with
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| I’ll flip so fast you won’t know I’m the same kid
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| I’m tired and fed with all the weak stuff said
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| All the phony-baloney that went out like Pro-Keds
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| You’ve got no leads, so you shoot blanks
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| It’s me the crowd thanks as I step to the top ranks
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| Bankin' my money, and investin' it wisely
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| Snatchin' up chumps when they try to sneak by me
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| I’m the dominant one, call me the prominent one
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| And as I’m speakin' I’ll be bombin' the dumb
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| Deaf and blind 'cause I was born with a sharp mind
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| Eatin' MCs with ease like it’s lunchtime
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| Or crunchtime, when they get done without warning
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| I’ll bust that butt from nighttime 'til morning
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| Your song’s boring, and so I’m scoring
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| Much points 'cause when it’s time to throw joints
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| I cause havoc, the mic I grab is like savage
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| I invade the stage, and make you get off
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| The force is like a .38 blowin' your head off
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| And that’s just in case you might be wearin' a vest
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| 'Cause you’re simply a pest in this mess, I suggest you
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| «Take a rest»
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| «If this meaning doesn’t manifest, put it to rest»
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| «If this meaning doesn’t manifest, put it to rest»
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| Don’t ever sleep son, peep one or two of these lines here
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| Arranged by a great brain, delivering rhymes clear
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| And concise with a nice dope voice and
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| Killin' the fakes like a taste of some poison
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| Punks are thinkin' they’re all of that, their voices are all flat
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| They’re findin' their names in a wack rapper’s almanac
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| Me follow that hollow crap, no way Jose
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| I’ll seek out a better sound to somethin' Premier plays
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| Days will go by, and soon you’ll know why
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| MCs like me will rise like the Enterprise
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| Starship, headin' straight for the target
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| Destination, a place where no perpetration
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| Is permitted, the Guru is with it to explain
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| How some MCs are scared to ride on a 4 train
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| Or any other train in the city for that matter
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| Playin' a role that they stole like a batter
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| But I know they ain’t so I’ll paint the real picture
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| My vocals go solo and like a bolo I’ll hit ya
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| Square in your face, I’ll crack the ribs in your chest
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| 'Cause you thought your off-brand jam was the best
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| You fessed 'cause you guessed people would be impressed
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| I’m gonna bust that bubble on the double
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| «Take a rest»
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| Sit back and reflect, ponder and chill out
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| Rhymes like daggers make blood spill out
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| But you can’t blame me for bringin' disaster
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| With all these ducks claimin' that they’re the masters
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| Only thing they mastered is how to get wacker
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| As I roll uphill they roll downhill faster
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| Now they’re wondering how they lost their touch
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| Wanna buy my rhymes but mine cost too much
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| I’m the innovative one, call me the creative one
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| And I won’t stop 'til the job is done
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| All the slobs just run when I come to get some
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| 'Cause they know better than to challenge this go-getter
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| They get bust, you can trust 'cause I won’t let a
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| Booty-ass rapper get wins against me?
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| I guarantee that I won’t act friendly
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| 'Cause crabs have a nerve and deserve to get whipped on
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| Their girls get kissed on while they get flipped on
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| I slaughter and slay or slap 'em up quick
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| 'Cause the lyrics they kick make me seriously sick
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| No substance, no value, but nevertheless
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| They’re gettin' daytime play but I still say they should «take a rest»
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| (DJ Premier cuts «take a rest» for four bars, then song fades) |