| This is it yo that I live my life
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| On the mic is my type of hype
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| Yeah it’s only right
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| One for the preciseness
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| Two for all my fuck ups
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| Three for all the Slick Rick niggas who stay trunked up It’s all street
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| Heavy metal hip-hop
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| For every ghetto
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| Fuck what you heard we 'bout to bring this shit to Wall Street
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| Flow financial
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| With authority to spark it on charts
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| While you couldn’t get a stop up at the flea market
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| You wholesale
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| Damn near no sale
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| My flows is mansion and a yacht, yours is roach motel
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| And don’t get it confused, we still in this for the art of it now
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| I puts it down for all the O.G.'s who started this
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| But yeah we in this for what we deserve
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| And Planet Asia’s got the heads comin’back for second servings
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| Like 'Who want some?'
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| I got it for ya’ll
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| With my crew up by my lonesome
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| We could go some
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| Now what’s the haps of what your sayin’best be ready to throw some
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| I blow so much trees I had to grow some
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| Killers, criminals, crooks — I know some
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| This rhyme was written for
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| All my hip-hop niggas across the globe,
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| Worldwide, tuned in, this is who I’m spittin’for
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| But yet times is changin'
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| Cats is still bangin’and shit
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| set trippin', and throwin’up their sign language
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| But we gonna show you how it’s properly done
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| Lights, Camera’s, ah ah, Action
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| This is it yo
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| No more than the 1−4 bout the fate
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| Confrontation of a dream I used to contemplate
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| Greatest ofter on the planet with the ghetto twist
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| Versus the inner child that now knows they never wish
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| You gotta exercise caution when you using words
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| It ain’t enough that every unspoken thought is heard
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| And I was fresher than the image that was ???
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| God is Grand not for purpose is a tyranny
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| This is it yo the freedom that I knew was coming
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| Justice is in activity, this is your summons
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| Spot a short stroll from the cradle to the grave
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| Just keep your boots laced you in the company of knaives
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| That’s always and forever on a heat wave tip
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| I first found mastery when as a beat slave
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| I was brought before a jury of my own fears
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| For lyin’to myself was sentenced to a wasted year
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| I did that and did a prime return into the microphone
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| Made a vow that i’ma never leave this life alone
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| And God busy revolutionising rap with awareness
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| The closest to a battle rap you hear is this
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| Odds fear now the hustle up a couple cell
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| But I don’t need some customers I need a Clientele
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| I need conspicuous of land mass and the navy
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| To vote with me shit to need to rise the goal crazy
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| Verbal warfare, the fiend of the mic
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| Ready to strike you with the stardard
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| So understand this is what we live our life for
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| Beats, rhymes street tales are down to puberty
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| Sticks you to shame uplifting the black community with culture
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| Cause this is how we wild on feds
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| Y’all better chill and get grilled just like salmon stinks
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| On the mic I’m something vicious always on point
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| like period, that's why the Dj’s be playing the joints
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| Spittin’precisely, straight from the heart
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| to the last rawkus man I will forever rule the underground charts
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| That’s on the yard
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| Y’all cats and get dealt with quickly
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| on the real so just chill while I blaze another fifty
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| This is it yo the part where the rapper get self righteous
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| We be goin’on the side to make me rhyme like this
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| Maybe I’m Jehovah’s witness just another Joseph
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| Known as the father of it though my father wrote it It’s a sweet gig with a social life that’s sour
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| They approach the very hour that you come to power
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| Some be comin’jus’to storm me and curse me man
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| The best weapon I could have at that point is mercy
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| For far too many clout came in the after life
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| But if you hate me and I know it then that’s half the fight
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| The rest is knowin’that you hate me cause I’m on your heart
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| and I’m the owner till me and my body come apart |