| Glued to the beat like goo to your new sneaks
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| True heat, spread askew through these zoo streets
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| Peaks a few reached, true a dude speak unique
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| Tell to switch it up, bless 'em with the new me, ooh
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| Food for thought, its a recipe from a sufi
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| Who choose to speak and truth seek its his duty
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| And shine a light, in the night, when the city’s gloomy
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| I’m on some abstract preambling
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| Mad Max factor, badlands that we travel in
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| Hairline fracture any wack rapper at a whim
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| Swear a fine actor dab hand at the mandolin
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| You can’t handle him, his whole flow is out of phase
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| Moves like a ghost or some lost soul from outerspace
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| Boldly missioning where few dare to reach
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| Known to turn slave words loose on the leaf
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| With this kind a momentum it’s too hard to stop me
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| These guys are acetate, I’m more like a rock piece
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| Ora shock streets turn a mock doctor knock need
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| Got Es and other such concocts to shot skeen
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| My shit is hardly sloppy
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| Actin like i cared rockin half a paper poppy
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| Operation solid not shaken like fast jalopies
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| Nor opaquely pink like faintly inked carbon copies
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| I’m a time-travellin' academic, to some I’m just a menace
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| Trying to catch a quick handful from they penance
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| Never were they ever further from the truth
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| But their paranoid perceptions of the boy act as F-X
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| And that’s something like a force field
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| Next flex positively powered but the core’s real
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| Raw steel four wheel driving, lift the quartz shield
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| Morse spiel, dottin off my messages with forged seals |