| Yeah…
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| Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
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| Grand Puba, Dattie X… dig it Get up out my way, it’s Grand Pub’s turn to shine
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| Hurt MCs ride the pine and get paid, no nevermind
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| One time as I sew it up like Dr. Frankenstein
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| Chickens ride the pony cause the rhyme flow genuine
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| As I do it like that, do it like this
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| Shorty watch your step or you might get Rocked like Chris
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| Are you feelin this? |
| You dig the way it’s going down?
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| Now we back in town watch all the chickens crowd around
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| Niggas try to duplicate my flow but it’s difficult
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| Like a game of Yahtzee
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| Chickens stress me out like paparazzi
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| As I flip a flow you desire
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| Dattie blaze those trees and let’s start this forest fire
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| My rhymes carry like the weight on Barry
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| Stack cheddar like Combs and buy homes like Larry
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| I be smoother than Tal, Sharp-ton like Al When you ballin everybody want to be your pal
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| No dilly-dally, baggin up the shorter alley
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| Bouncin in German cars, still playin shot-ball
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| Brand Nubian cats, here to flip one for you
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| For sure dog cause this is how we do Just an old fashioned love song, playin on the radio
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| Brand Nubian cats, here to flip one for you (2x)
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| Ah shit, I see men mitts (?)
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| Watch the green van cause inside’s the dicks
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| The prayer beads bleeds from the crucifix
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| Went tight comin out boy I be down in six
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| Or when the sun go down, or when it’s round in the BX
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| Cats on the concourse, still holdin dx (?)
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| Bums on the street often ask me for change
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| What’s change when I’m tryin to save up for the Range?
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| I want the whole world and my old girl back
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| Change that -- I want half the world, and fuck my old girl
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| You can play the hell out, like those that came before ya Your style is butt, similar to a cobra
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| That’s your pimp strut
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| But what you foes is really doin
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| Is leaving your empire in ruins
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| I’m the problem solver
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| I got the brand new revolver
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| But I got a new album too
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| I want to be here for that money and the rest of my crew
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| Yall know it’s true-- a nigga like me is due
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| Just an old fashioned love song, playin on the radio
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| Brand Nubian cats, here to flip one for you (2x)
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| Now you know I gots to come back strong
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| See I been doing this too goddamned long
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| For me to ever try to come back wrong
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| Check my pockets and my empty light just came on Don’t wanna do wrong so I think I’m best to make this song
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| Undeniably satisfiably master microphone mutilator
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| None greater, ain’t no Automator
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| Grand Puba and Dattie, riding shotty in the Mazarati
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| As we come and blaze you with this body
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| Corner poets get smacked and hit, savagely bit
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| I go git and then you out of it, permission to quit
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| I mean right, I keep the green light specials
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| Half price a slice, you blink twice
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| I done picked up the dice
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| I’m that nice, Dattie X the party-starter
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| Number one heart-ripper-aparter
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| More vice and gambling than Las Vegas, Nevada
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| I try harder every day
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| It’s all work and no play
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| Just an old fashioned love song, playin on the radio
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| Brand Nubian cats, here to flip one for you (2x) |