| Tiger uppercut, yo, what the fuck?
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| A lotta you rappers, adapt me, so you better duck down
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| Check out the sound that pound
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| Rugged raw rap is back, from Shaolin’s underground
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| Who’s in town? |
| You guessed it, you guessed it
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| It’s the Drunken Monk, and I came to get cessted
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| Infested, wit deep thoughts that’s insane
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| Whether the pen or steel, you gonna feel the pain
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| I reign, just like a storm droppin bombs
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| If you wanna get it on, let’s get it on
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| Words is bond, cuz I ain’t got no time for you suckas
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| When the pen hits the pad, I blow past ya muthafuckas
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| Ain’t nothin funny, stop smilin, I’m wildin
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| Funky freestylin, straight from the Shaolin
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| Island, but you already know the half
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| Caught in between the world of science and math
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| Feel the wrath, as I feel the fire down your back
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| I attack the track like contacts in Cow Stack
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| Bring it back, press rewind, on each swine
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| And my mind intertwines wit rhymes, here’s the bottom line
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| You niggas can’t get wit it, forget it
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| Lookin so sweet, that you make me wanna hit it |
| Ah shit it, the mentals is lost
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| But of course, my style is always comin off
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| Escape from the (Shaolin Zoo, Zoo, Zoo)
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| Ain’t no stoppin me now, I’m gonna blow
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| In a way I go, wit another ill flow
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| Yo, who really started this rap shit, I’m addicted
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| And I can’t stop sayin shit, like Sega
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| I’m Street Fightin niggas like Vega
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| Black Fist, I like to give a finger to ya majors
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| Fuck you, and all ya groups and ya phony ass troops
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| Niggas think they rough cuz they trees on they boots
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| That’ll make ya, plus talk is cheap
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| I roll wit a Mob, that rather take it to street
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| And smoke got me open, I’m chokin
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| They say I’m brain dead, but how the hell I keep on flowin
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| On, they wonderin how I’ve lastin long
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| It’s the bong that I smoke, by the palm wit don
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| Aow, that make ya wanna sing
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| I knock ya ass, just like Legends of the Ring
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| Ding-ding, nigga let’s get ready to rumble
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| You stumble, if this was football, you fuckin fumble
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| What the bumba, I sleep around ya shit like slumber
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| Party, organize crime like John Gotti
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| And the way we go, blast off I’m on the next level |
| Maybe it’s because I dance wit the devil
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| A rebel, without a pause, go four yours
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| I’m droppin drawers, my metaphor scores on the billboard
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| Raw, my hardcore sound, uh, touchdown
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| I’m Shaolin bound, for my brother’s who ain’t fuckin down
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| I pose a threat, don’t forget, I expect that ass
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| To try and front, and talk all that cheap trash
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| Smash, hits and shit, I done flip
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| If my mouth was a automatic, my brain’ll be the fuckin clip
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| Slip, into another case of bass
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| I face the race, and then be ghost without a fuckin trace
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| Place the winner, I might eat that ass for dinner
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| The head spinner, when ya just a beginner
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| Sinner, I wanna be wit you boo
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| But I gotta do, what I gotta do, and represent the Zoo
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| Two-Six Mob is you wit me, Special D you in my head
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| And in all my memories, 2 Cent, Rauf and Hect
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| Rest in peace from the ill rock vet, time to get right
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| (Shaolin Zoo) '94
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| (Shaolin Zoo) Shaolin Soldiers goin to war
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| (Shaolin Zoo) King Just
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| (Shaolin Zoo) What nigga?
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| You should of let us out, muthafuckas (Shaolin Zoo) |
| Aaah |