| Hahaha! |
| Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo Yeah, yo, check it, check it, one-two
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| Gravediggaz, yo, yo, yo, yo We on ya ass, watch the happ’s of the gun blast
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| False Things Must Perish (x4)
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| Yo, yo, yo Judas, Xavier, Sampson, Goliath
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| Now and nowadays, Gatekeep', livin’Messiah
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| Porphecize, historically, the wise category
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| Superiority in the game, explain my story
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| Dopeful lavish, they’re doin’that like a savage
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| Concentrate, basin’my inner faith and pushin’karats
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| Rappin’the average, speakin’on riches
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| Teachin’that all of mankind is actin’dumb, deaf and blind
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| Beatin’with stripes, worshippin’the glitter of lights
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| Callin’the Twilight Zone, 'pendin'on cellular phones
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| Batteries low, got no dough, what’s facin’you?
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| Sportin’ya jewels, and twenty-seven niggas chasin’you
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| Ultimate blast, constantly repeatin’a path
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| In an attempt to represent, our class be exec.
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| To get higher, for what you desire
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| Yo nigga, yo’blood shall be required
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| Give it here.
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| Yo, yo, yo Fix ya face, y’all know the tricks of the trade
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| Trade ya six for the eight, spit the case
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| Face fire and escape on tracks, raise the facts
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| I annihi-late the wack, I’m tired of these fakes on wax
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| We all wanna shine but we all don’t seem to have the mind
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| To design schemes that align teams, just a crime scene of blind teens
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| In the rap kingdom, where cats keep
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| bling-a-ling-a-lingin'
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| And it’s fine, I love it when the black man shines
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| Bringin’hope to the habitat where fiends do dope, snort coke
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| And carry battleaxes, players rock Cadillacs, hunched in their seat
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| Pumpin’the beat when stompin’the street, they come with the heat
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| Cuz flamboyant niggas get punched in the teeth
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| When they front in the beat, but who brings relief
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| For the average nine-to-five cat carry his grief?
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| Brook-nam, grace and charm, stay calm but chron’s hit Lebanon
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| Black man but ortho’green Leprechaun from Lexington
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| Don’t disrespect Sunn, I crack ya face with the gun
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| Smack ya taste outta ya dunn, look at ya fam on the run
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| Now y’all respect Sunn, shine all type direction
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| Right connection with the right perfections, recite a lesson
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| But my weapon reign automatic projection
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| Blow out ya reception, hose through ya reflection
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| Solid gold complexion, stay swoll to perfection
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| Did a fifteen, me and my team, supreme legends
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| Twenty-one-two, still gettin’money with the Wu Up in the Cayman Islands, bitches sweeter than honey dew
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| And I made moves, paid dues and slayed crews
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| Y’all niggas fakin’jacks on tracks, look out for the steel bat
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| I live it real black, ill with my format, my war tac’s
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| Worth divine, alphabetically spilt |