| Workout time again
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| On Point Studio
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| We just up in here, me and Snipe, man
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| We gon' workout a little bit, for this Makin' Enemies project
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| Spit some rhymes for my homies and like that kind of stuff
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| I’m puttin' panoramic cameras out so I can scan and scout
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| The planet and channel out the man endowed in me and his spouse
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| I live in a ceramic house that I damage substantially when I’m spoutin' high
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| powered showers of sledge hammers out
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| My anger and manic bouts are tantamount
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| I can’t account nothing prior to me
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| Landing here via Trans-Atlantic route
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| A man of clout yet my sanity stands in doubt
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| ‘cause I ran throughout the land, feeding ferocious animals hand-to-mouth
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| Powerful numbers left these cowards to wonder
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| Calendar date scrambler, New Year’s is now in the summer
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| I’m in the big leagues, you diss me and I’ma blitz you with quick speed
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| And rip you like that pissed tiger did the partner of Siegfried
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| See you don’t want it with none of us
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| I’ma bust 'til the contents of your stomach’s crushed and lookin' just like
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| sonic slush
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| Impossible shots I hit
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| Five mic passes equal five assists when I get hot as Peja Stojaković
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| Yeah, hand me that water, man
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| Like I say we just in here working out
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| Puttin' a little something together, man
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| K-Rino, Big Snipe in the building, man
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| Let me load up with this second verse real quick, y’all
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| Watch
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| I practice stomping out weak circles
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| And fifty pound ankle weights leaping vertical over five feet hurdles
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| See me defying logic, that’s a easy one
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| Picture AR-15 rifle bullets releasing from a BB gun
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| And when these weapons emerge, you’ll understand I’m better with words
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| Swatting your head like a Federer serve
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| You’re flatulent and dense so I’ve been coming at you since
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| I can fake throwing a jab and make a statue flinch
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| When I’m running it, no one can accomplish it
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| I’m the wondrous flame that keeps becoming lit with no candlestick under it
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| There’s no chance of imagining or matching my acumen
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| For tapping into deep areas average men ain’t rappin' in
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| Verses be worded thoroughly, it might take an eternity
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| To interpret and determine literal from hyperbole
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| After these third degree burns that he first received he learned to be courteous
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| Still I imperviously charged him a service fee, whoo
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| Now I’m tryna figure out what I’ma eat tonight
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| All this rappin' made me hungry, man
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| Gotta get some nourishment in my body
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| ‘cause if I collapse on the mic, won’t be no third verse
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| But I’m just playin', here it go, check it
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| Enlist artillery in my facility
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| The skill in me makes building something silly really a mental impossibility
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| I will agree to kill a spots
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| I’m fast and agile so call me by my new name, Veloci-gility
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| The streets lookin', that’s why I keep pushin'
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| Don’t need a bat, I had a blood skeetin' and gushin' from beatin' you with a
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| seat cushion
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| Completely still yet I steady creep
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| Lyrical anesthesia settles deep so you pass out while you already ‘sleep
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| Kill again when big hand meets little hand
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| Catch you standing in between two other dudes and eliminate the middle man
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| You cats is playin', you oughta be ashamed for this
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| For falling out the game as quick and decades later I remain this dangerous
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| I blink my eyes and I’m energized
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| A hundred percent of me flies out even when I only give twenty-five
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| Climbing the highest stairway
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| Smoke mics like cigarettes and mash ‘em out in a cat’s face like it’s an ashtray
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| Like it’s an ashtray, haha
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| Boys be asking me a lot of questions, mane
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| Some I be wanna answer, some I don’t be wanna answer
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| But I will say this
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| I love spittin' these lyrics for y’all
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| And I’ll leave it at that
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| Let’s go home |