| They be saying…
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| Man… emcees be acting all bad
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| And they never be over there sounding just like my homie Ab
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| He had the same reaction
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| Response was stoic
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| You’re sitting there telling him something
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| Like he don’t know it
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| I know they holding they breath
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| They ain’t got many notes left
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| It’s there for the taking yo rep
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| Might be one you gone regret
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| Yo we ain’t fearing they form
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| They whole spirit gets torn
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| Crown imperials worn
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| They ain’t prepared for a war
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| Ay yo I heard that verse
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| Wasn’t hella choppy at first (was you?)
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| I heard your last outburst
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| I know me serving you hurts
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| Opposition stop jawing and lipping
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| I’m rock to your scissors
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| And dulling your blade’s incision
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| I’m knowing they got props
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| At a similar end of the spectrum I know they flow off the top
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| In a resembling way of the veterans But we’re loaded with epinephrine
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| Adrenaline rush you give me the go
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| Pretend to be us how insidious and unoriginal
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| Man… emcees be biting they fake
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| And they be over there
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| Sounding just like my homies Ace
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| He had the same reaction
|
| Response was stoic
|
| You’re sitting there telling him something
|
| Like he don’t know it
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| Man you don’t think I know my flows
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| Are good for the biting
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| While I’m writing reciting
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| Trying to give the whole world everything I got
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| They got they one sided karate
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| Me I flow jeet kun do you think you know?
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| To harness the energy within the person who’s the weapon
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| While searching for shoes to step in
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| You wound up with a mirror image of me
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| Some call 'em Aceyalone clones I call 'em students
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| Sir Isaac Newton laws of movement creates the mutant
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| Mutation & adaptation go hand in hand the strong survive
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| They’ll eat me alive if I don’t find a new ocean to dive
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| A newer sky to dive
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| Do or die eyes still on the prize
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| And from what they comprised
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| Further more lets me know I’ve arrived
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| Our contribution & influence won’t be taken lightly
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| Freestyle foundation generation might be slightly
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| Off to the left I mean
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| Fight to the death extreme
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| Look at me I’m a microphone fiend
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| Take 'em to a place no other MC seen
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| Man… emcees be stylin' their rhymes
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| And their cadences
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| Be sounding just like Myka 9's
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| He had the same reaction
|
| Response was stoic
|
| You’re sitting there telling him something
|
| Like he don’t know it
|
| Heroic in proportion the amount of respect
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| That’s been shown to an orphan with a warped intellect
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| I take no credit for my success neurosis
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| From where the hopeless seek a cure in proper dosage
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| Check a positive prognosis
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| To endure death threats for wasted talents
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| Or so it may upset the chemically imbalanced
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| Boldly approach next challenge
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| With an Alien wrench in a clenched fist
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| To produce an alley stench and inch by inch
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| These historic pros off the dome or written flows
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| Gets harder to quote which raps I wrote
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| Pinch Mike since I’d never admit it
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| I’d spit one style and someone else’s whole career created?
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| Just one bright moment serving an opponent
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| In any format befitting
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| They can put their child through college
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| Only if they bit it and ran with it
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| I polished off these phonies with follies
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| I concocted underworld
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| And mainstream flowwers are my spermatozoas
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| I got great-great grandchildren in rhyme building
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| Some make millions and some get not deal no salary
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| When imitation is the highest form of flattery
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| Man… emcees got helluva rhymes
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| And they be over there
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| Sounding like they got y’all timing
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| We had the same reaction
|
| Response was stoic
|
| You’re sitting there telling us something
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| Like we don’t know it |