| I feel lightning in my fingertips
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| Swift status, I give a nigga his wings bitch
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| Sleep on me, creep on me
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| Throw heat on me and I’m still gon' eat homie
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| Ill Bill from La Costra Nostra
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| Come sideways and we’ll both revoke ya
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| Reef got the toaster
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| All I gotta do is whistle and my bitches’ll smoke ya
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| What more can an underground rapper say?
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| How longer is these rappers gonna shine gay? |
| (Faggot)
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| First up is yay (Kanye)
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| Second and third is yay and my shit get no play
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| Where I’m from, yo the Jakes’ll murk ya
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| Act like you know and the fiends’ll jerk ya
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| Three classics under my belt
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| I just lost my comrade, I need something to melt
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| You think you BIG or 2Pac, you Nosferatu
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| Or Ferragamos, murder, death, kill,
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| There’s no tomorrow, you won’t see the evening news
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| Rolling G’s and Jews, goose spend your time like Beetlejuice
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| We the truth, you talking about the cat you hit
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| Vicious as the blackened spears and sleep for half a year
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| You only bust your gat in air
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| Yeah you killing the clouds, having shootouts with the atmosphere
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| You the wackest here, unable for my rap to fear
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| You live fairy tales like glass slippers and magic mirrors
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| Who’s the fairest? |
| Speak the language of Arabs
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| Sharif terror, send em to the sky like a chair lift
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| I’m original, never jocking y’all style
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| I steel a nigga, watch him slide like crocodile mile
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| I’m the wild child style vile since wild style
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| My guns go boom boom, your guns go pow pow
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| Deadly sins, we ain’t gonna pray for em
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| Ill Bill and Reef, I’mma spray for em
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| Five niggas that’s the best in the game
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| If the niggas ain’t fam then they feeling the flame
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| Deadly sins, we ain’t gonna pray for em
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| King Mag and Paz, I’mma spray for em
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| Five niggas that’s the best in the game
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| If the niggas ain’t fam then they feeling the flame
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| It’s the heavy metal king, ain’t talking about the group though
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| Cause I’ll beat a gun charge right through the loop hole
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| Still down to shoot though, use em accordingly
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| They supported me, protected what my music afforded me
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| Disorderly, hold your beef, do them shits grimy
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| Literally down with Doap since the mid-90s
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| That’s right, face cringe from the syringe binge
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| And friends bend every rule that you made within
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| Aim and spray again, nothing like a window cleaner
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| Talk politics up close and no leader
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| And for the front of your eyes is binoculars
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| You need to stop in the apocalypse to rock with us
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| If not it’s AZ about to rock it up
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| Doing open heart surgery on your esophagus
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| I’mma die profitless like cult leaders
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| Aim assault heaters at adult, leaders gonna bolt
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| The game of thrones, stick you for your chains and clothes
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| Most rappers will suck dick for cocaine and dro
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| Ratchets explode, homie my chrome’ll rape your soul
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| Bring twelve plagues like Moses raining toads
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| Fuck your tongue wanted the blood
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| Hit you in the head with an audible guns
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| Unfortunate ones get tortured and hung
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| The cult leader homie with the sorcerer’s tongue
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| Heavy Metal King influence your daughters and sons
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| You the topic of the song Shook Ones from Mobb Deep
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| I’m harder than bricks or football on concrete
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| Chilling in deadstock Jordans, millions of dead cops
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| Warnings, COs, informants
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| A hip hop Blackie Lawless, see more bodies than coroners
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| Unfamiliar aura, peel off shotties at foreigners
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| Grinning with pride, gorillas with militant minds
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| You win or you die, I’ll empty the clip in your eye
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| Deadly sins, we ain’t gonna pray for em
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| Ill Bill and Reef, I’mma spray for em
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| Five niggas that’s the best in the game
|
| If the niggas ain’t fam then they feeling the flame
|
| Deadly sins, we ain’t gonna pray for em
|
| King Mag and Paz, I’mma spray for em
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| Five niggas that’s the best in the game
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| If the niggas ain’t fam then they feeling the flame
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| There’s no ode to the goat, throw his body in the moat
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| Buck fifty to windpipe, go for the throat
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| Pussy boy rappers better hold rosary close
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| Ain’t too many in my cypher that’s closer than Doap
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| Throw the faggot in the water, I hope that he float
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| Hope they ready for the slaughter, it’s awfully close
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| I think he wanna kill himself, I offer him rope
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| My vision is blurry, I’m seeing Allah through a scope
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| Boxcutter Paz, John the Baptist
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| Ain’t nobody safe when I bomb you bastards
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| Only thing I think about, Islam and gat clips
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| Jordans, Grey Goose, bitches, and caskets
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| I’m an ugly motherfucker, give me a fat bitch
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| A dime is too much work, Vinnie a savage
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| Rob a motherfucker, rip through his assets
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| The 28 V rip through your cabbage |