| I never make songs to disrespect woman
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| or to judge people about the way that they’re living
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| but the way I am is based on the life I was given
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| like them white boys; |
| +Losing My Religion+
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| I used to be a christian and a political porn
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| the bible is right and all your native culture is wrong
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| next thing you know you telling me 'bout making a song
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| come in the studio, and tell me that I’m making it wrong
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| pissed off 'cause reality is making us strong
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| like the ghost of Timothy Mc Veigh making a bomb
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| 'ey yo Marvin Gaye, what the fuck is going on these rap niggas made propaganda out of your song
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| but it’s the gong show, amature night at the apollo
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| my dick is like my music, but harder to swallow
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| so children follow me, like the pot piper
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| and sing the chorus in the air, with your blood in your lighter
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| (sing that shit nigga, right now)
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| You played yourself thinking your down with me I end your life nigga, don’t fuck around with me and if you kids can’t listen, then your bound to see
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| the way you get shot for crossing the boundary
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| The second verse is worse than the first and disrespects
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| script this specifically to keep people in check
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| Harlem to Boston, real niggas spit with me but Landspeed, you ain’t fucking shit to me and underground labels know that I don’t trust you
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| your only independent till your major, so fuck you
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| and if your pissed off 'cause you think that I dissed you
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| I rape your moms and we can make this a personal issue
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| +Dance With The Devil+ remember that your not on my level
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| stupid your not ready, I won Disypher, Pragging Rights from Rocksteady
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| and practically every battle that they got in New York
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| and I still murder rappers on the street for sport
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| Doctor Giateen cutting you short little man
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| but you don’t give me props 'cause I never won at Scripple Jam
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| well fuck you, I hope somebody you love dies, so fuck your crew
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| and fuck your family too, Technique’s at it bitch
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| What the fuck you gonna do
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| (Yeah, Wrap it up on these niggaz, wrap it up, Yeah)
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| Immortal Technique insinuate degenerate fags
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| burn tretlock, wrapped in his confederate flag
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| I got the Beretta with my face wrapped in a rag
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| so put the African slave juvelery in the bag
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| motherfuckers tell me, that a diamond is forever
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| but is it worth the blood of Malcolm and Mekka evers?
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| house niggas get your head sevet? |
| trying to be thug
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| you don’t concern me, I’m trying to hurt the people you love
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| Word of Mouth is I’m in the club being sneaky
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| I’m like the body snatchers in your girl as getting sleepy
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| I murder you indiscreetly, right at the source
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| like the roman leech and Anit stabbed Christ on the cross
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| this is about Judo, it ain’t about Jesus
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| and you shouldn’t fucking talk about telekenesis
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| nigga please, moving shit with your mind
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| try moving ya moms out the projects with your rhymes
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| and next time, I’m coming after 'cual quiera’profanity
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| fucking 'carajo maldita mierda'
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| roll up 'de hierva, i pasala, para la isquierda'
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| put the price up to listen to me pop shit
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| 'cause I got Martha Steward giving me stop tips
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| underground money with honeys up in the whip
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| Bangbus.com, nigga fucking your bitch
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| Yeah, played yourself nigga
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| fuck all ya, you don’t know shit about me why open ya mouth and discuss who the fuck I am
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| I thought I told ya niggaz on volume one, I wasn’t fucking around
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| you just slept, cuz you sold a few thousand units in the golden era
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| when niggaz would buy anything on the shelf
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| but those days are through, and you are through with them |