| Non compos mentis and moon struck
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| Come, pompous apprentice and succumb
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| To this relentlessness, the sun
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| Rises and sets yet you see none
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| Of it’s effects until it’s done
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| Then you’d reflect on how you’d run
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| I’d take a step, your momentum
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| I had still kept, fool
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| They eat then they wanna smoke then they eat food
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| Repetitive cycle 'til I feel in the mood
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| Other crews can’t copy, they ain’t got the magnitude
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| I hit 'em up, a heavyweight, they call 'em Ab Rude
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| This is not simply just to downplay wishes
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| Made by emcees who found they status
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| Do what you do to live life lavish
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| Have this cabbage, heavy baggage
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| Well I would like to start by saying
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| Life has to be sparked each day
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| And night, got to be smart don’t play
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| Your time, you won’t be back
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| When I speak I slice the words up like a slasher
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| Private party crasher, dasher, rational thinker
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| Sparkle a twinkle, third eye glimmer
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| Sky swimmer
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| I like to let it simmer 'til the lights get dimmer
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| And I like talking about dilemma
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| And come up with a solution for the pollution
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| My contribution being the superior being at emceeing
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| And seeing the light love being in the light
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| But they snatch it like a thief in the night
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| (right, right, you know what I mean)
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| I call them the cookie monsters
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| On the grind for these Entemanns, Chips-A-Hoy
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| Combined with M&Ms, money, main
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| These B-Boys prosper posture on top of the roster exposed impostor
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| Send him in, rendering him limb and limb
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| Salted wounded, squeezing a little lemon in
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| Torture sounding from drowning porter subjects surrendering
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| My tender and remembering the splendor when
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| I put my first splinter in nail
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| Cuticle, black male
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| And you and yo honey giving skully to Clinton insider her cubicle
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| Checks not cash knots
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| She also gotta keester half this poultry up that twat
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| The rest will go up to other hows tickling the G-spot
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| On G.P. |
| you could D.P. |
| the sales manager and the VP
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| You could smuggle me a key
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| I best belive that’s how it be
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| Just smoke this weed and leave with all the homies
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| Out the hotel
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| Ain’t we having a car come pick us up?
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| The life of a star come hook us up
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| Studios, stages and the streets, bomb beats
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| Pages of loose leaf, blazing the keef
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| Courageous, the truth speaks louder than lies
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| So when they hear you style they be proud of you guys
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| Search from land to land
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| Go from a thousand to a hundred to ten
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| And couldn’t find an honest man
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| It ain’t always what it’s promised to be
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| They don’t stop until the thirty third and a third degree
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| Shhh… can you keep a secret? |
| of course
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| Or yell it loud 'til your voice hoarse
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| Out the airport
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| And we having a plane fly us out
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| We the truest, they interview us for what we write about
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| Whether we’re right or wrong
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| Once again it’s on 'til the night is gone
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| Get in a zone from the dome and a tight song
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| Well life just ain’t sugary and buttery, is it?
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| Now what, are we fooling ourselves thinking that it is?
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| I’m thinking that these kids need to know it from the jump
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| And be it that I’m a poet trying to get over the hump
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| I could play it like a trump
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| Make you sicker than the mumps
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| The days come hella fast and the money comes in clumps
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| And sometimes it don’t come at all
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| You run you fall come one for all for one
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| Depending on exactly where you from
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| Cause the only way to be immortalized to be organized
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| And be able to be mobilized and look over the skies
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| I speak for an Overise and I stand for the universe
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| And freedom of man original with the tan
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| Can I expand? |
| can I feel the crowd?
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| If you don’t want me to touch you then, uhh, speak up now
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| Yeah, I keep my eyes on the owl and the sparrow
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| And the eagle and the hawk
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| They say why you talk that crazy talk
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| I tell 'em «we see what your eyes can’t see»
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| On me, «we hear what ears can’t hear»
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| Poetry we can be what nobody can be
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| Solely the only lonely truly
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| Non compos mentis and moon struck
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| Come pompas apprentice and circum
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| To this relentless the sun
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| Rises and sets yet you see none
|
| Of it’s effects until it’s done
|
| Then you’d reflect on how you’d run
|
| I’d take a step, your momentum
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| I had still kept, fool |