| To the beat, yall!
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| Yes! |
| This’ll always sound good to me
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| Rest in peace, MC Breed
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| This sound hard and juggalos gonna jam to
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| Get the record a second 'cause I plan to
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| Hit the people like a scene of a amezement
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| While they slip my graffiti on a pavement
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| Grumble like I never do
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| Shotgun pointed dead at you
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| What are you gonna do?
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| You listen to the knowledge of a sunset
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| You wanna get high? |
| We gonna touch the sky
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| Throw a «Wicked Clown» up, we proclaim the name
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| We don’t show no shame, 'cause we across the lane
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| I’m like a rhino runnin' through the roughest path
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| They figure I’m a trigger-happy killer, so they step back
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| Freeze!
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| Because we’s the coldest
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| Who lasts the longest and who’s the boldest?
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| And in the game it’s plain to see
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| You listen to the sounds of Breed
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| THROUGH THE I.C.P
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| You don’t stop
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| To the beat, yall!
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| It ain’t no future in yo frontin'
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| You don’t stop
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| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop
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| I never got caught with a kilo
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| And if you ever do, yo, you never be with me, yo
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| Always getting head 'cause I love the way it feeYol
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| Leave the crowd bald 'cause it’s the place that I be, yo
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| Never have to worry 'bout my crew getting jumped
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| And if we ever do, Legs Diamond pop the trunk
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| We don’t go for playin', unless you playin' with my balls
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| When I’m on the mic I ain’t for playin', not at all
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| Cause I fuck 10 hoes a week boomin' at my peak
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| 20 years on stage, but I still get geeked
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| I can give you a job, a place to eat hearty
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| And we all gettin' rowdy in a Hatchet Man -party
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| Takin' over, barkin' like a dog named Rover (woof!)
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| Big bad-guy from a four-leaf clovers
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| Hit yo bottom like a venomous cobra
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| Sharpen my axe up and then I’m coming over
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| You don’t stop
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| To the beat, yall!
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| It ain’t no future in yo frontin'
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| You don’t stop
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| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop
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| Joe B, R to the U-C-E and
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| Down with my homie M-E-C and Joey and
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| Suckers causin' static, cause we still be disagreein'
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| I don’t give a fuck 'cause I’m from D-E-T-R-Oit
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| A city where pity runs low
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| If you ever shoot through my city, now you know
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| Cause we are strictly business and we also got our pride
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| And if you don’t like it, I suggest you break wide
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| Juggalotus got hellfire, can’t deny it
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| Fuck the fake-weed, if it’s legal, I don’t buy it
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| I ain’t got time to fuck with these hoes
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| Blow my fucking dingaling until my dick explodes
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| That’s the way I am, every ninja be different
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| When we order Faygo 3 semis for a shipment
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| If I was the president, then I would state facts
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| And rule to fucking world with a solid-gold axe
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| It ain’t no future in your frontin'
|
| You don’t stop
|
| To the beat, yall!
|
| It ain’t no future in yo frontin'
|
| You don’t stop
|
| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop
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| Stick my damn foot angle deep in yo colon
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| When I go insane, no it ain’t, no controllin'
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| Put my name Shaggy on everything I own
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| I once stole a jeep, put a gat up to his dome
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| Shine it up good, kickin' through the neighborhood
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| Carnival of Carnage creepin' out the Kenwood
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| Quick to grip around it, and then I’ll have it chopped
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| Won’t pass mad cops but I never got stopped
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| Ain’t no future in your frontin'
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| You don’t stop
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| To the beat, yall!
|
| It ain’t no future in yo frontin'
|
| You don’t stop
|
| To the beat, yall!
|
| You don’t stop
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| Bring that shit, bring it
|
| To the beat, yall!
|
| You don’t stop
|
| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop
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| I said fuck all the rules of the world
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| Live my life raw, cause I never liked the law
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| In my black truck I pass Bentleys
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| Had my old crew turned to crack-headed fiends
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| I put in mad work, but I never break a sweat
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| Time to move out, my posse sayin' (bet)
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| You got my back, and I got yours
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| What time is it? |
| Hm, tear down the doors
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| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin'
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| Never was, cuz
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| Yo, Mark, drop that, drop that
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| To the beat, yall!
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| To the beat, yall!
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| To the beat, yall!
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| You don’t stop |