| Before we get outta here, I got this track I want y’all to wreck on
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| Gimme 6 lines…6 lines… that's all I need
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| Alright, ok
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| I write in the light of day and in the night for pay, nigga!
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| You my main motherfucker, right?
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| You duck and hide when Pep Love touch a mic
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| Out the back door
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| If you ain’t got that dough
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| I’ll click clack blow and kick down doors
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| I roll Backwood trees with that emerald green
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| When I’m on the scene, chillin with my nigga Rolls gettin blown
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| Watchin ladies with them pretty eyes and straight teeth
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| Sittin' in my ride, playin make belief
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| Like, «That's my car!»
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| «That's my girl!»
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| «Imma go up to my house in the hills after I burn one»
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| I write rhymes for the fun of it
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| But give me all my money or your gonna be facin capital punishment
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| I’m a soldier of fortune
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| My style is extortion
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| And I’m gorging more than a portion
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| Take an excoursion, oceanography odyssey-D
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| Ballin' 3-D
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| You don’t wanna see me, not for one second
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| Not for one bar on one record
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| You think you come hard, then come test it
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| I’ll turn a threat into a confession
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| I’ll turn a mic into a blunt weapon
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| Make you forget what you was once reppin'
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| See I’m a bass drum beater
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| Mad high hatter
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| Ensnare the snare with this here
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| Choke the life out 'it
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| Revive it and vitalize 'it
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| Prop it up proper so you guys’ll idolize it
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| I’m not at all surprised that you’re modeled after my shit
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| The masterminds is ahead of whatever the times is!
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| You niggas saps, maple leaf
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| All your raps is make believe
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| I get an eighth and Breathe like I’m Toni Braxton
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| Get up on the action you gettin no reaction
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| Slowly stogie packin'
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| Lean back one foot up
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| Your style is put up
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| My turn to burn good up
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| You’re boring. |
| I’ll suffocate you while you’re snoring
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| Kill 'em Softly like Lauryn
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| You spit and I’m pouring
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| My flow’s adequately hydrated
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| And I waited to vibrate it
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| It’s live ain’t it!
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| Fuck with me, get stuck with cutlery
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| Luxury, I’m living luckily!
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| Music is my sanctuary (it's my life!)
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| They shootin blanks
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| My every round is a live one
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| Surviving the mind numbing propaganda
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| Eyes closed with blindfolds
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| Handcuffed and ambushed, struck by the lightning bolt (oh shit!)
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| I’m comin out your plasma screen like 'The Ring'
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| Make excellent cadavers of your fascist regime
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| Cause I grab the mic and niggas couldn’t understand
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| Why I’m fuckin' up your Summer Jam like the Son of Sam
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| And punishin'
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| Dressed in black with a skull on chest
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| And holdin' my nuts exposin my 5-star general
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| That’s spittin flow
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| Unpredictable
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| Ricochetin'
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| The shit gets bullseye
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| We hit 'em, oh!
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| Velcome all vulnerable vocalists
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| Visualize vivid verb play in my vortex
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| Virtually, no verse’ll be vinnin ova me
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| They vapor
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| My verbal voltage vanquishes
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| Parental advisory
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| Vamoose! |
| I’ll vick your vitality
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| Vindictive with voodoo
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| Valiantly save the virgin from the viper
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| Vanglorious vide vorld of volcanic violence
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| Your vessel gets violated over the velm
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| Voracious, vivacious
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| Veto your village voice
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| Void your vibration
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| Vultures got me vergin' on vomitin' they vishfullness
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| Gets met with visciousness
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| Every verb’s visceral
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| This is no kiss under the mistletoe
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| A clip will cripple foes
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| Crucifix for mental cliques
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| Triple 6 flipped now it’s 9
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| Now it’s time for vertigo
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| Reverberate through your convertible
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| Hard nose in the contest like Ron Artest
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| The con artist
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| Bombard 'em and start 'em in Vanguard shit
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| Get serious… grown from experience, and our shit
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| A lyricist to the tissue… bones and cartilage
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| My fare for the hair raising
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| Razor sharp with rare phrasing
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| Perfectly scripted like Scorcese’s 'Raging Bull'
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| Lanky like Kirilenko
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| Paid in full
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| I skipped grades in school
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| Exhume verb and further with no sherm on the burner
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| Mostly Turkish hash on the purple grass in the sterling
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| Wave your checkered flags, I’m world class in the derby
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| Paragraphs off the flow chart topsy-turvy
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| Every day A represent
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| With a weed habit affecting the trade deficit
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| They ain’t never met nobody like me
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| Til they comin' in from work, see me holdin they wifey
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| In the 80's, I was spoken icy
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| Not from diamonds, but rhymin' and flowin precisely
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| Type of nigga that’ll get ya scolded politely
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| It really wouldn’t show if I was holdin'
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| That’s why no one would fight me
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| Bush bombed Afghanistan with the missiles
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| And it still ain’t puttin' my hash man outta business
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| Hieroglyphics we feelin' stand to the finish
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| Full Circle on you niggas… don't forget the bitches!
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| Wooo… yeah, that’s what I’m talkin about!
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| Y’all did that!
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| Couple y’all kicked ass
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| It’s cool… we out! |