| I gets dumb with the momentum of the drum
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| And blow MC’s, to kingdom come
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| The future holds nothing else, but confrontation
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| (from Public Enemy’s Apocalypse '91)
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| Murray is a lyric luna-tic toc
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| Boom, I fill the room with the rough rhymes I consume
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| My lyrics is too fly for this world (word em up yo)
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| and more famous than the Jheri Curls
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| My rhymes correspond with the funk beat
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| like infrared correspond with heat
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| I’m malicious and vicious, puttin rappers in stitches
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| (yeah yeah) when I’m rippin up twelve inches (like this)
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| My rap style is a metallic bastard
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| that thrives off of battery acid (word em up)
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| I rhyme like I’m hungry over funk beats
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| for those, who shit where they eat
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| Reach, and your strategies’ll be picked off
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| Cream puff sweet, I freak the sheek type of speech
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| The vital, verbal combat I enlist
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| Wraps rappers’brains up into a pretzel twist (word em up)
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| When I’m coastin with the funk style potion
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| I leave your notion dead and bloody in the ocean
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| I can’t be beat so don’t be under that assumption
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| I flow as long as the herb is pumpin
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| Yo what kind of weed is this?
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| It’s the bom bom zee baby.
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| Yo this shit is WAY out!
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| Yo let’s be outta here.
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| Come and take a ride on my bad side
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| You can’t fuck with my style cause it’s ?pasteurized?
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| And when I meet my match, I’m tyin em up in the bassline and stabbin em in the spine for tryin to play fly
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| We got to have it like some hungry dirty stinkin motherfuckers
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| Always actin wild and stupid like truckers
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| Goin against the grain, barbecuin niggaz
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| in the Purple Rain as my wild brain child style goin insane
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| And I’m wild with the usage of a harsh word
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| My style of speak is mentally disturbed
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| I drug the head more than hallucinogenics with rhymes like these
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| On the mic I’m catchy like herpes
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| Covalent ionically with the mic I combine
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| and gain more strength, than a molecule enzymes
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| E crack the sticks while I get in the mix
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| and kick some fix after prefix after predicates
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| I take a trip down memory lane
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| and kick some shit, that’ll bust your brain
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| Hit as you should, a real common hood
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| Not Stephanie Mills, but I still feel good
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| I take a Phillie Blunt to go, and yo I flow as long as the herb is pumpin |