| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| God
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| That undertaker Paul Bearer shit
|
| Like a shot straight to your larynx
|
| Got a spot out in Marrakesh
|
| The rarer shit
|
| Started in basements in Maryland
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| We made that paper grow like Merrill Lynch
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| My songs hit like John Lynch
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| My aura bright as blond tint
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| That Orville Redenbach' pop
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| That bidi bop bop
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| Te quiero mucho cheese and green box
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| We took the scene by, with clean raps
|
| The squad is a terror, making 'em (lean back)
|
| You got some shit I like, I think I need that
|
| These niggas suck, to get where they at, they using kneepads
|
| Recycling bullshit, the same content but it’s re-rap
|
| My shit penetrate your cranium and wave cap
|
| I never took a day off
|
| The god and I really feel like I can say that
|
| So many flows, had to use a new one to show I’m nuanced
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| A project a month 'cause bar none is more than a bar gone
|
| Niggas disrespect, we come through and bomb like Saigon in Vietnam
|
| Sound the alarm
|
| In this game of kings, queens, these niggas all are pawns
|
| My mode I’m moving down the autobahn running an audible
|
| I muted the bullshit, no longer audible, the flow is soluble
|
| The school of hard knocks, we was on on the honor roll
|
| The chronicles, adjust your bi-focals
|
| This dirty game can get under your skin and cuticles
|
| The root of all evil will make a nigga cut his own blood off
|
| With a hacksaw, for more dough
|
| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Eh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| God
|
| I never took a day off |