| In the air
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| There’s something in the air
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| Clinton, Obama, Osama Bin Laden
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| Spitting flow hotter, blow ganja, been rhymin'
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| Sipping Goldschlägers, show stopper, Benz drivin'
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| But whipping no Mazda, blow llamas, men firin'
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| The wolf in sheep’s clothing, deceiving the herd
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| 'Bout to sneak a strike on you while I’m breathing the herb
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| Peep and observe, pull the chief to the curb and see what occurs
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| As I Hamburger Hill all your people with words
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| The heat will emerge like Jason Voorhees at the Lake Camp Crystal
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| Blazing four Swedes, now you can’t play cripple
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| Sing in short sleeves, all MCs blaze pistols
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| I came with four cheese and raw beats, got paid triple
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| It’s simple, beat rocker, heat cocker, meat hopper
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| Mi casa, su casa, mood stopper, who shot ya?
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| The crew proper so fuck a repair
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| If the cypher’s going on, put (something in the air)
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| I make your mental experimental
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| Watch the minister climb up
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| Filling in the atmosphere like Canibus
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| (Matter of fact, lay him flat on his back, yeah, that)
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| I make your mental experimental |
| Check my credentials, with pen and pencils
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| (Fuck all that, clack, clack)
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| (Lay him flat on his back, yeah, that)
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| Something in the air like we burning the piff
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| Bob Marley, Cheech & Chong, me hardly twirling a spliff
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| Copy carbon, I be hauling ass working with this
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| Flick of the hand, turn of the wrist, you burnt to a crisp
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| Reverse fusion flux eruption, blast furnace
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| Loose screws, nuts, you fucked, we blast burners
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| Burn slow, runners and gunners, the fast blunters
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| The truth like will turn ya to Nat Turners
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| Or Ike B and Tina, catch a case, misdemeanor
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| That’s 'cause she ain’t take my fucking suit to the cleaners
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| A super hero, super villain, I’m super illin'
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| The certified super in the buildin', the landlord
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| Lex Star scream mean when he transform
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| Crank like Jason Statham when he transport
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| Stand strong, a solid rock worker
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| Planet rock, gravity stop, clocks inertia
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| Time dilation, rhyme by the 'Dation
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| Found by the now riverside, lying naked
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| Wrapped in the pages of unique fabrics
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| A true beat savage, my crew speaks madness |
| Tongues of a lost text, long forgotten dialect
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| No man’s land where these MCs try to step
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| SOS, but he lost his flare
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| Caught by the Dutchmen, put (something in the air)
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| Foul weather
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| I make your mental experimental
|
| Watch the minister climb up
|
| Filling in the atmosphere like Canibus
|
| (Matter of fact, lay him flat on his back, yeah, that)
|
| I make your mental experimental
|
| Check my credentials, with pen and pencils
|
| (Fuck all that, clack, clack)
|
| (Lay him flat on his back, yeah, that)
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| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman
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| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman
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| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman
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| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman |