| I’m the damn guy
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| Azza, Manek, Traumatik, MTD
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| Diezel, Kombo, Texas, Jimmy Danger
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| I’m the damn guy
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| Ball Hard like Orlando Magic, pull out the ting, call me «Go Go Gadget»
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| It’s A double Z A, but my name’s not Aron, rude boy, no it’s Harry like Hatchet
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| Hachet, talking like you’re rough when you’re moving, but we know that you
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| ain’t stacking
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| Stacking, ain’t trapping, dunno why these men are talking rough when they got
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| no backing
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| Alright, lemme jump back in, them men chat shit but they can’t back it
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| Back it, they don’t wanna try fuck around on the mic, them men get scared,
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| when I’m at it
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| More time in a blacked-out jacket, touch the mic and I smack it, they can’t
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| Hack it, hater wanna hate, that’s cool, but I’ll counter attack it
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| Don’t piss me off, trust me that shit’s a lot
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| I’m back you pricks I’m kicking it off, off of the hinges give me the dosh
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| Cause I wanna be livin' the floss, so I keep giving up, bringing them lots
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| On in the bleway isn’t a prob, she’ll be walking with a spliff in her gob
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| And I might be lit up sippin' courvos, but they won’t hear me missin' a drop
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| Come near me I’ll be willing to cotch, but foul mouth me get a nick in the chops
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| Right around me, when when it kicks off, elbow to the face make a man pissed off
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| Don’t know we’re menacing cause when I say that it’s going off it’s off
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| My Lemon Haze is from Devon ways, and it’s harvest time in 11 days
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| It’s powerful like a weapon sprays, and trust me you’ll be well amazed (So
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| listen)
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| Let me just demonstrate smoke lemon haze and then celebrate
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| I meditate and regenerate and then elevate up to Heaven’s Gate (I'm God)
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| I’m above all the pen and papes, just celebrate and then penetrate
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| I’ll desecrate and I’ll devastate any heavyweight, I don’t relegate (Hey
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| dickhead)
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| Run, go tell a mate, my lemon is sticky like sellotape
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| I’m punctual, I’m never late cause I teleport and I levitate
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| When I spita the bar she master the crafts like Mr Miyagi
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| Trust me you’ll see more punches thrown than fists at a football derby
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| My style is literally barmy, simple and plain like twisting a car key
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| I treat MCs like boats, taking them out with a spitting tsunami (Yeah)
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| Bear lemony narcs incredible bars put them on my logs
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| Smoking generous bong with the boys and the federal cops
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| Your boys call tell 'em all come, all get 'em all done, all them are all runts
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| I treat them as like work, then smoke heavily blunts
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Crush all the lemon, armageddon, I’m blazin' 24/7 (Seven)
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| AK-47, how many zoots today? |
| About seven
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| Strong weed spin, 2011, so dank they smell it in Devon (Devon)
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| So high they itchin' from heaven, birthday date: 7/7
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| Terrorist like a 9/11, bare Gs up in the sessions
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| Smoke so much it like an aggression, zs weigh? |
| 27
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| Eighths? |
| 1 point 7, bizayg, what’d you reckon?
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| They blame it on the recession, england’s heading into depression
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| Liverpool Daddy, run the mic like an athlete, Yammin'
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| The beat like a patty, you can never catch me, the man o man sure take a back
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| seat
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| My name’s on the road like a taxi, you’re an ickle man you can’t match me
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| When a mena-muna mic up bidda bidda big (Woo)
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| Yo, and I bump up the ante, ready for the war, I’m like an Iraqi
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| You don’t want no beef, no teriyaki, I’ma get animalistic and aggy
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| Come visit, N One Niner, my da beat dat taught a bus driver |
| 24/7 the basic survivor (Brrah), mic up, old man, televisor
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| This ain’t no test run nought to sixty like that I’m an F1 (Nyoom)
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| Put down their weights on my air force, waste MCs get back where you left from
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| (See ya)
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| So far back you get laughed at, it’s like watching a terrible sitcom
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| Have a break son, have a KitKat, we MCs like munching a Bourbon
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| Who’s on the mic? |
| It’s Texas, I’m eating you all up for breakfast (Morning!)
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| The style we got is infectious, I’m fitting together like Tetris (Beep-boop,
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| beep-boop, beep)
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| Frontline baby shake it down (Hey hey hey hey), we represent for the underground
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| Appleface starts running out, light the fuse, tick, tick, tick, pow
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| Honestly gotta be properly droppin' the sickest of rhymes you heard
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| The quickedest wickedest lyricist ever to spit on the mic, true words (Right?)
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| So give me the rhythm no give me the bigin I’m killin' the vibe for days
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| We get in the zone I’m lettin' them know we’re chuckin' the mic and spray like
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| Stop that watch this, keepin' it dark like gothic
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| So I drop shit, got piff, pure organic, no toxic
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| Cop man’s flow got me dropped down low
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| We proper got that bro, it’s a knockout shot, bop
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Cause a landslide when we touch the damn mic
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| Yeah, it’s jammed tight get your fuckin' hands high
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| I’m the damn guy, I’m the damn guy
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| Got lemon and cheese and packets of weed enough to make you damn fly
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| Fly, fly, fly |