| He moves the crowd like a cursor on zoom
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| No curse words, DOOM the worst church nerd verse heard
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| Appeared blurred to a million true believers
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| He’s the supervillain arm dealer to the divas
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| Catch, amongst other world scandals
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| Butter pearl handles to match your girl’s sandals
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| Plan was hatched by a pack of old vandals
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| Whose flag was a black and gold patch with bloody anvils
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| «Hit 'Em to the Head» was the motto
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| And one more time to make sure them dead, BLAKKO
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| When you throw blows in a knife fight, Paco
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| That’s how it goes in this Modern Life like Rocko
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| Clock dough 24−7 cycle
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| When it comes to flows he got more than a mic full
|
| Pull a broad like a dyke bull on a long bid
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| You’re messin with the wrong kids Michael
|
| … it ain’t Jack-son
|
| For him to flip scripts like camera, action
|
| Villain! |
| Raw by the laws of attraction
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| For future generation’s information — the black one
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| … Move the crowd like a buddha cloud
|
| The purple, puff puff pass 'round the circle
|
| A jerk well renowned for his work skill
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| He’s out, the proof is the computer’s down Urkel
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| MC a show via wi-fi
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| And paid way before we wrap it up like tie-dye
|
| Hip-Hop sci-fi you can see
|
| He had the eye of the tiger through the mask like the Fry Guy
|
| Just made a baby Olmec dome check
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| Left some folks' ancestors home wreck
|
| With blown backs these lesser known facts thwart evil
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| It got no reason, like short people
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| No offense, his feet was burnt brass
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| Whenever he walked on the street it turned glass
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| On his lucky rat’s paw in the crap drawer
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| All the world’s a stage, where’s the trap door, slackjaw
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| Logic, to keep your mind in the project
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| Drop the check, his job is to chop necks
|
| That’s just payback for noses there’s no psych though
|
| What they don’t know like Bo
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| Won’t hurt Diddley squat
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| Got to be kiddin me, not
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| Seriously plot, to put a hit out on a G-spot
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| Gypped like Egypt out their kettles and they teapot |