| I’m the keeper of the chamber, MCs confronted with danger
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| I increase the pain by magnifying 600 levels of anger
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| What was he that would choose me?
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| Comprehend a thousand trigonometry equations couldn’t confuse me
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| Student said, «Teacher, teach me the skills», I show him
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| Taught him my powers, then he challenged me, so I blowed him
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| Not into criming ‘cause rhyming is a clever racket
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| I love my Black Book like Fonzy love that leather jacket
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| Don’t wanna battle one MC, I’d have took on three
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| I’m so intelligent I got phonics hooked on me
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| Extracurricular vernacular reign supreme
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| The hieroglyphic scientifical sorcerer king
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| When K-Rino is in the zone, I do what I like
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| I might just quit for seven years and come back like Mike
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| Better than ever with new styles that have never been done
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| Verses directly from the year 3001
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest
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| Yo, I got your head in the guillotine
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| Whip the mic across his neck in this rough radical rhyme scene
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| My words are poison, my thoughts nonconsumable
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| Pass the Gun save the Roses for his funeral
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| You wanna test me on that mic you can sing a rap
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| But if you step up to me wrong you better bring a strap
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| MCs run up on the ground and kick a rap I hate
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| So I state vocals to make bodies evaporate
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| You’re weak as water, that’s why I’m blowing you out
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| Water’s H2O but for you we’ll take the 2 out
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| Travel to the deepest of the infinite chambers of skill
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| Laid in a pool of piranha just to test my will
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| He had to get some backup for the rhymes I shot
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| Came back with thirty MCs, I laughed and said, «That's all you got?»
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| Boy if you cross me, I promise I’m coming to see ya
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| Float like a butterfly but sting like gonorrhoea
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| When I’m writing I picture rage
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| Thoughts take action, it’s so agg that the words jump off the page
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| Be rapper microphone magician and heed the fist
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| Who have I, bitch? |
| You got three hours, I’ll read the list
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest
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| Don’t make a move, if you do bring your gun
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| Me know them have to shoot me ‘cause them scared one on one
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| Me float like a spirit through the park in the night
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| Then lock down them haters with the verse that me write
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| I’m tired of playing with these suckers on that mic, I’m ready to hurt
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| And start to slaying all these brothers I don’t like by putting in work
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| You got one more thing to say about my skills before I stress
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| Or this tongue gon' sing today and bust a hole up in his chest
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| See I try to be cool with wack MCs but still they play me though
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| Now I gotta be cruel then show them they can’t step to K-Rino
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| If we spit some, I fold 'em 'cause my vocal blast don’t bluff
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| Wanna get some? |
| Don’t hold them, let him run his ass on up
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| I’m so real on that mic I don’t need to pack
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| Calgon took him away but I snatched his ass right back
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| MCs, y’all ain’t on that level to bang with me
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| Boy, you could be my nuts and you still couldn’t hang with me
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| ‘Cause I got the skills them sucker punks I’m housing
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| I got brothers by the hundreds, murder weapons by the thousands
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| Plus I’m deeper than any rapper in the Solar System
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| Hands I smould him with, blame it on the brass knucks I swoll' them with
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| ‘Cause err, if you jump you’ll land in this world and die
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| Like all the suckers that I crack that sterling high
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| So let’s square off like some gunslingers
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| But I’m so quick I pull my gun turn around and snatch your gun with one finger
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest
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| So make a move if you feel like you wanna test
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| The microphone is a gun aiming at your chest |