| --] Attention passenger’s we’re on a non-central journey
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| To Hell and beyond
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| Hahaha
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| Good evening all you blunt smokers
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| Welcome to the Darksides of Def Squad
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| Where you bout to hear the voices of Passione
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| LBM, Kel Vicious, Keith Murray
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| Takin you to the Legion of Dume, and beyond
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| This is a Pay Per View event
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| Some shit you wanna hear, yaknahmsayin?
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| Let’s get ready to rumble, yeah.
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| When my, Funk’s mastered like Flex
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| I touch more earsets than Nynex
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| LBM puts words together like Triple Yahtzee
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| Performin open heart surgeries with a hand-grip shottie
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| My creepy wisdom mixed with leaky ism splits em
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| And attacks the rhythm like an exorcism
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| Blood leaks out my ink pen, I start killin
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| Stinkin, bitches like?? |
| Joe Rifkind?
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| (Rifkind. Rifkind.) YAHH!
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| I strangle angels from a Brooklyn angle
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| Rectangular mangle (and TANGO) incur single
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| As the world goes around, I’m breakin down competitors
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| Like the predator, niggas check my metaphors
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| (yea, word up) Let the bullshit, ride, put the clip inside the steel
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| When the verbal starts to peel, motherfuckers know the deal (YEAH)
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| Like AC/DC (word?) I’m charged off the energy
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| The cipher is my soul psych the soul is my serenity (word up)
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| Time and time again I grip the pen with a vengeance
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| Disruption of your cypher niggas label me a menace
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| The villain, I’m feelin, another, lyrical combustion
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| Eruptin, bustin out my brain (whoo!)
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| So ignite the flame it’s the lyrically insane
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| I, open up the vault searchin for the buried treasure
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| With ?? |
| in the brain, increase the measures do whatever
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| Whatever. |
| NIGGAZ! |
| K-Keith Mu.
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| Keith what? |
| Y’all niggas don’t want it, I get widdit
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| Quicker, than a nigga with a piss-bag done shitted
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| Niggas, be like, quit it
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| Cause my renditions be expeditions
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| For niggas on them straight looney missions (nigga)
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| Funk Lord Productions be sayin somethin (word)
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| For niggas in the street who wanna fight
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| And press charges, I got somethin (bitch)
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| Throw that, you could get the bozack
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| Cause I leave homicide mummified and all you hoes know that
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| Right about now, it’s Kelly Kel
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| Kel Vicious, bout to get. |
| ill
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| I make a hundred crews give me enough respect
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| Cause my shit got the major funk effect, so check it
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| Select it, my rap style be highly respected
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| Challenge Kel Vicious get burnt, expect it
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| I’m twenty-one, and I’m a phe-nom-enon
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| The Def Squad, L.O.D. |
| live on and on
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| These forty ounce drinkers, drinkers, big drug sellers
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| Smellin like a blunt and if you front I’ll split your melon
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| What’s your name? |
| Kelly Kel, where you from? |
| I’m from C. I
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| What the FUCK you wanna know for punk? |
| You ready to die?
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| Your biological clock, is tickin while I’m kickin
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| Forty ounce dreams of blunts and wishes for you trick-ass bitches
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| This is Mr. Kel Vicious with the ill funk flow
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| Knockin punks out like my name was Riddick Bowe
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| --] Attention passenger’s we’re on a non-central journey
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| To Hell and beyond
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| Yo, haha, and that was just like I told ya
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| Was gonna be for all them niggas
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| Rockin Daisy Duke and Reebok pumps
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| Up in ya, ya tricks |