A, a
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Hera, Hera
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Hera, Hera
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Hera, Hera, Hera
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Hera is fresh, young
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In white polo
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If everyone wants a throne, then rap is a game of thrones
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Tons of pon or wagons of cola from tables
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With whom do you share blood? |
Who are you standing at the microphone with? |
BUT
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Sleepy people will go back to sleep in concrete
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Then I'll set up the microphone, forgetting about sleep
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I put it all on the line, pulling my hood
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Are you talking about style, boy? |
But your rap is Cherkizon, whoa
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How do they follow the fashion, but their rap with the wrong code of another breed
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Who are you?
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My frequencies are with me, lines are honey, now I will fill these honeycombs
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What year do we spoil beats, crush flowers
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I am where the bridges prevent you from reaching the house half a verst
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There is shame in your eyes, they have long cooled down
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People rotted, selling their souls for abundance
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Killa Twet is young, ice temple, scourge, but I'm cold
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This house is closed, I'm not looking for a reason to sleep long
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Every new day the cobra stings and angers you
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Wicked old Compton
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Tokyo Honda, Uzi, Maine, I'm assembled
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Beach, my dogs set your house on fire, fragile bitch with me, Chinese porcelain
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Yeah, I got up early, I'm already on the run
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E-e, but you got up so late, this is your hundreds of troubles, yea
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Killa is your death, my time creeps up so slowly
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These niggas only respect the new covenant, I breathe white like Solid Snake
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Fuck, who are you sharing mike with?
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With whom do you share your couple of secrets?
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With whom every day you are in good, but in these bad ones my park will hide you underground
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There are so many, many herbs, there are so many, your bitch will open its fountain,
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I'm so, I'm so young, dem
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Little did I know, I'm in the subject after those long years, maine
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The streets are afraid to die, there are so many cripples
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I don't give a fuck what you say, fuck how you say
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Byach, did you come to tell me that you are OJ?
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All I hear is a child's cry
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Wheelbarrows, legs, arms, hey, quickly see what you need
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Hear the bark day and night
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House, nine, guns, Tommy V. Aikiay you gotta do the same style you were
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Dam, I'm like super (tr-tr), laciantic swirl
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We cook only the highest crack, a lot
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The most complete quasi-joule, Everest from the underworld
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Lyric side, we fuck, Dop Club, neon body in the dance, ha
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This bitch knows a lot
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Here is an amino-species backflip
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Already in the house does not lose two fish
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Love, sea, field, dear, dig a little more
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Homey don't run, the avalanche imagines itself to be a god
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You intentionally wrote
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On the hood is a young clip lik
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Kinomode day bi like a fucking brain
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Vice City outside the window, fuckers, hey
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My tribal salon, no, this is not a dream
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I'm wearing a white backpack, I'm ready for everything
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I throw a lot of rubbish into my extinct brain
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I go into the night |