| I warn you shit face!
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| I pick who I’m gonna bury next
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| Say your prayers fast
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| 'cause you’re about to feel my arm in
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| Freedom of speech, watch how I reach my potential
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| I still know hunting for, dope tracks and instrumentals
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| Travel the world, found black diamonds in the Everglades
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| Fought Temptations, slap-boxed in The Devil’s cage
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| Globe Trotter, spot-rusher, I bust in your mouth like a Gusher
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| It’s Wu Tang motherfucker!
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| I ain’t mad, I cock My music in the chamber
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| I’m God’s gift; |
| heard I was born in a manger
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| Danger! |
| Cosmetic face rearrange you
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| Leave you slumped on the chestboard found by a park ranger
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| Burst of adrenaline, bungee jump off of the Verrazano
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| I skydive in some sky-blue Ferragamo’s
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| In the streets heavy, my charms chunky
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| You damn right I fuck fans
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| And I keep the munchies
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| Guess you must be, the four dog fist champion
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| (I've heard of this devil’s kick, of course yeah
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| Everyone knows in the Kung-Fu world
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| It’s a method that’s never been defeated yet)
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| Ha ha ha, and won’t be
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| I suppose I should warn you
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| I’ve been given good money, to kill you
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| Loose cannon
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| Forty-deuce flicks to Paris, way back at the Palace
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| Like Mike Harris
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| Callous
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| Fly nicest, metallic, bang mallets
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| Fly your whole carriage to Paris
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| The Black Pat Garrett
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| Carats on Donna Karens
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| Guys die trying to drive the McLaren
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| Islamic, burn chronic out on the terrace
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| Angelic body lie cold without spirit
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| My finest hour, you sacrifice to a higher power
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| Fly from the tower, I fly sour
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| And buy powder, .40 cal give your pal a shower
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| You shit in your new Calvin Klein trousers
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| The night prowler, your life is ours
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| Knife your Eddie Bauer, leave you
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| Push up flowers
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| You ain’t counting chip-counters
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| Niggas is pimps your bitch shouted
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| The 650 get cloudy
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| You’ll see! |
| I’m a master now
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| And whoever insulted you, pays with his life for this
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| That I swear! |
| I’ll fight now
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| (Okay, not bad)
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| (Patience, you’ve not seen it all yet)
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| Yo; |
| gonna beef I don’t discriminate
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| We dudes black and blue, smack on crews
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| Like they’re food, taking space up
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| On my dinner plate
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| Depending on my mental state
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| The mood that I’m in’ll make me charge like a bull
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| Pull the tool out and ventilate you
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| Sinner taste you down
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| Make your crown face your frown, full of
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| Rounds from the pound that detonate when
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| They penetrate
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| Tell you always been a snake
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| You don’t move like I do
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| Imitators hate the fact
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| That they can’t do what I do
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| I’m mindful of my rivals, I can
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| Smell em when they slide through
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| Provide you my arrival, they won’t even get a side-view
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| Won’t know that life is over
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| Til I’m standing right beside you
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| It’s not that I don’t like you, motherfuckers
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| I despise you. |
| The other different pedigree
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| Not cut from the same cloth, stay G’d up
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| From the feet up, while your heart pump duck sauce
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| I love it when they tough talk
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| My guns love to bust off, but every time
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| I squeeze they call police, they bus me up north
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| Sinister the finisher, they label me a menace
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| And got mad when I laughed at the judge
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| During sentencing, not glorifying prison but
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| I’m built tough for bidding
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| It’s survival of the fittest shit
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| I live it every minute every hour to the second
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| I’m gaining my respect
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| Never catch the god in the yard
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| Sharpening the weapons, got shooters
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| On demand, new recruits for the Clan
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| Sticking everything moving, more loot for the fam
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| Ain’t a damn thing changed, just say the name, bitch: Wu-Tang! |