| Yo wassup dog?
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| Seven commandments, knahmean?
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| Yo son, with the seven commandments
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| Yo, nothing but the 'Army shit, the raw shit
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| The military war hits with gun clips
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| My battleground’s where I lounge
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| Fighting wars from dusk till dawn in the trenches of Hell
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| There’s more blood spilled than Hamburger Hill
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| The planet Earth is the battlefield
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| Enemy troops can’t come face to face with death
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| Black mission caught for cold steel
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| The last shot you hear when I open fire better aim to kill
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| As the destruction that I reveal like revelations
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| Drop jewels like parables that can’t be seen with the eye like constellations
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| You’re lost in the nation with no mental vision
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| Unseen strikes your vital like precision
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| I’m camouflaged in the large with ammunition
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| I’m in deep meditation like the great Indian monk Dhamo
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| Lyrical desperados thrown like a torpedo from black masks like Zorro
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| I froze the scrolls and scriptures and literature of killers, riddlers and
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| Hitlers
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| Sick photographers who paint bloody pictures
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| Wu-Tang is the foundation, we move in populations
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| In Japan I stand and control the minds of Asians
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| Candy cat raps gets your tongue cut off and lungs twist back
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| Sabotage savages got stabbed as I watched blood drip from their fabrics
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| Madman ran up in the church and stuck the reverend
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| Stabbed him with a cross, some say he was stuck by the seven
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| The seven commandments, metric equivalents
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| Meaning many niggas died for pleasures
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| I waging guerrilla warfare, supply the yellow jackets
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| Each one containing a mini sovereign homing missile fitting your sides ragged
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| Puerto Rican Terrorist from the Middle East refusing the mark of the beast
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| Increase your energy by one bar while I unleash
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| Thoughts that remain on your brain like scars for life
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| Made possible by the mic device
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| I slice wielding a sharp instrument sharpened into the tip of a pyramid
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| Used to drill a hole through the minds of the ignorant
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| It’s my assignment burn up the climate using rays from the Sun
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| Dom Pachino, Madman, assassinating tracks with Shogun
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| Yo bring it on, I deal with this like my first born
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| My brain form blow MCs away like Desert Storm
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| 21st century crime for you been warned
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| US currency got me itchin my palms
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| P.L.O. |
| killer tactics like I support a fact
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| Dead back was the feedback, Park Hill’s badass
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| I deal with this shit like it’s my last
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| So to speak what you say son go have a blast
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| I’m livin for the city, I burn as the world turn
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| First degree poetry
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| Hold your headpiece, when I release I clear the streets
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| Killarmy passed the heat so I’mma dead the piece
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| P.L.O. |
| is the Street Life out in the streets
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| Mentally I be ready, pass the machette
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| My thoughts travel fast like Mario Andretti
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| Racin through this hellhole or ghetto through the poverty
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| It’s all about survival so I can risk the robbery
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| Goin through the struggle, trials and execution
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| This is my solution to this revolution
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| Pay close attention, lyrical precision
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| My mind be my war guide, observe, learn and listen
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| Knowledge before your wisdom unleashed for the children
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| '96 be buildin the stat or be killed in |