| Yo, hah yo, rahh, yo, yo Yo, yo, yo…
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| Yo, I got stress on my brain that causes chest pains
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| inside the best frames ghetto blood clots is scored by slug shots
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| and drug spots, well if you’re too poor to move out
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| or get a new house, it’s like livin in a war walkin through shootouts
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| And you doubt God exists, when hard fists
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| be poundin on your head like jackhammers
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| You’re trapped in the black drama, you hear the laughter
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| seconds after that you fade out, you’re played out, you’re laid out
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| Your heart nearly gave out, you’re lucky that you made out
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| with just a few scars when the beating ends
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| The streets let ya breathe again
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| But evil men, will soon be on the receiving end
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| of Universal Law, I’m callin on the meek and the poor
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| To fight back and never forfeit the day you have to go to war
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| With forces that are armed upon the seven continental borders
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| A mental fortress is essentials to absorb this
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| My sword hits the human orb until it orbits
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| In the art of war kids see Grym Reap be morbid
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| Since pieces of the lost civilization in the past
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| Had my photographs etched inside of pyramids
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| To laugh at this revelation, without 365 days of concentration
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| and twenty-four hour meditation, would be foolishly pagan
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| I’m ancient as 'amen', see I stay Grym
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| Throwin fools in in a pit full of pit bulls to be shaken
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| Or strapped to the crossroads of Hell and inner sin
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| Which trap the sinners in, to sell such in Sing-Sing
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| I bring Grym tidings, tidal-ed/titled your wave all not exciting
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| Stop riding the dick, start writin your own shit
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| Cause I stick figures that think they fat and can’t rap wind blast
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| I make em Slim Fast, lookin like stick figures
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| I’m all that, I bag chips at concerts and shows
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| Get more panties than hoes that boost Victoria Secret clothes
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| Foes is tagged like ex-foes toes at the coroner’s
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| Kids with cold feet rise and fall like the barometer
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| Grym will mentally chop your career
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| See shit is locked down here, like penitentiary blocks in tears
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| Escape outta your ducts every time you hear my name
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| you better duck fate, or catch a fuckin face full of duct tape
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| You get smacked like a trick that sniffed off her money
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| Then smoked like Rzarector with the blunts dipped in honey
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| Verse Two: Prince Rakeem/Rzarector
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| Rotate your head like a gyro, my hair grows in knotty spirals
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| Feet resembles Christ’s description from the Bible
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| Water-walker, immune to all physical torture
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| Pull out fast in a Porsche, upon a double-crosser
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| My penis rise up in the morning like a Phoenix
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| And blast iron cells into a low blooded 'nemic
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| The imperial — material’s venerial
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| MC’s get murdered in serial, you can’t fuck with the material
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| Unorthodox paradox, my shit is seen wide-screen Magnavox
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| Grabs thought like Doctor Octopus
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| Cause war like the grandson of Kush
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| I’m hangin devil’s heads on a evergreen bush
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| Sugar-frosted sorceresses bitches get exhausted
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| Pussy lips be drippin, like leaky faucets
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| Undercover C-Cyphers sprayed up like windshield wipers
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| While I’m guzzlin Piper’s, changin my son’s shitty-ass diapers
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| Dime piece trapped in sync like many time piece
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| You get stampeded by the wildabeast
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| A rap dast’plus tracks black like Chow Yun Fat
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| Oppositional forces get their eardrums flat
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| Common denominator, I swing the mic saber like Vader
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| He was fooled by the inter-pre-atation made from a traitor
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| MC’s get their wigs blown, trounced off my fistbone
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| Choked from my death, every time they break a wishbone
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| Eventually, I knew the whole world would mention me Potentially, I have the key to make G’s
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| MC’s breeze on my tracks, I rock the fruit with the trees
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| Killa bees spread rapid like diseases
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| See it’s, like the second comin of Jesus, of Nazareth
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| be fabulous, raise the dead crowd up like Lazarus
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| Hazardous vocabulary attacks be beautiful
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| Acoustical notes we provoke, it comes out musically dope
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| Niggaz realize they just can’t cope
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| The hair, bustin out the head resembles fire and smoke Loc
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| Verse Three: Frukwan/Gatekeeper
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| I blast watts in circuits like General Monk-Monk was Turkish
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| My science is divided deep into your central nervous |
| Pervert area codes peep this murder
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| I’m boxed-in, suckin hologram tits, inhalin oxygen
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| Parallel world of crab niggas and sea shells mix
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| I pierce my dick and sword right through you pelvics
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| I’m hell stricken bomb, wrapped in trees of palm
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| Physical existence is descendants of Allah
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| I travel at high rates, Weaker men are primates
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| That either migrate or get burnt to the stake
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| I feed off lyrical light beams of amphetimene
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| My terminology is panatomic like lobotomy
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| Crazy el loco, gas niggaz like Sunoco
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| Flush em like Presto, Blast in your chest bone
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| I raise from the shore, like Sodom and Gomorrah
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| with traction, flashin a 4-wheel drive Ford Explorer
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| While mucus lies within the center of the Rubik’s
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| The roots of the wine induced the enzymes inside your nucleus
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| Turmoil boilin appointed, niggaz rubbin off my style like a ointment
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| Lost in the Sahara, From trial and error
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| Confused with 3 meals for Sister Sara
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| Rahh! |
| Bearer, Digestin minerals in abundance
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| Because the dead is not known to return from the dungeons |