| Ah man
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| Suckers bite my stuff, man
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| Can’t get no sleep, man
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| Yo, what’s up, DJ Pooh?
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| Nice to see you back, man
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| For 1990, right?
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| Finna do it up
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| But I want you to do somethin for me, Pooh
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| You could do me a favor right quick?
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| W-won't you pump up the beat a little bit right here, come on, right here
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| Suckers
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| Suckers
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| 1990, y’all
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| King Tee back on the map
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| And we gon' tear it up like this
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| I wanna dedicate this song to all the L.A. rappers out there
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| Check it out
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen) -- ] MC Lyte
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| Well I’m the one for my treble, two for my bass
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| 3, 4, 5 just to stay on pace
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| Now that I got your attention you’ll be happy to know
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| That they call me Tee the King but King Tee’s how it goes
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| So suckers, get your shit and get packed
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| Catch the next boat out, supreme Tela’s back
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| And I’m funky once agaian, so run and tell a friend
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| They said I wouldn’t last but I’ll be here until it ends
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| Yo, I’m the king at being cool but get a load of this
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| They wanna label me best L.A. soloist
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| I couldn’t be like that, but then again I could
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| Cause half of you MC’s ain’t no good
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| Anyway, hey, I got somethin to say
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| Directed to every MC in L. A
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| You run up on the King — huh, how dumb
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| You knew from the beginning you shoulda brung a gun, son
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| Cause I be shootin the gift like it’s a gift
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| Take the punk, slide em up just like a spliff (*inhales*)
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| Then everything’s cool and copastetic
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| I wrote the book on being cool — oh, you read it?
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| How’d you like the part where I tell you how to walk
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| The kinda clothes to wear, the use of slang in your talk?
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| No need to look around cause there ain’t no clone
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| King Tee came to take you home
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| Come on
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
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| I came to take you home
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| (You can make it)
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
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| Now this tune right here allows you to get funky
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| Literally you can do what you want, see?
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| I’m more like the pilot or the driver of the scene
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| Or somethin that you usually dream
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| Yeah, I’m manufacturin the sickest metaphor
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| Lyrics you’re not ready for
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| Hear it, I keep a steady score
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| Of suckers and muthafuckas who like to suffer
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| I wear big ropes in clusters
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| And I execute, never wore a sexy suit
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| I wear khakis with a t-shirt and hiking boots
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| A rare fashion with the gangster touch
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| Because Ballys don’t mix and turtlenecks suck
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| But hey, I be crashin, throw in a accent
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| Maxin while I’m waxin the boots with passion
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| Happens to be one of my favorite attractions
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| The name’s King Tee, but the T’s for taxin
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| Phoney MC’s, them sucker punks wanna riff
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| Just because I wanna give the party a lift
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| You know, build your spirits expand your horizon
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| This particular production is mine’s
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| And E-Swift's, the DJ E-Swift to be exact
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| Holds a hypnotizin scratch, make the others look wack
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| So look all you want cause there ain’t no clone
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| King Tee came to take you home
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| Come on
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
|
| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
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| (You can make it)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
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| (*E-Swift cuts up*)
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| (I think you should listen)
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| (I think you should listen)
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| (I think you should listen close)
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| (Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
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| (Don't turn away)
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| (Don't) |