| Yeah, Bronx, New York City!
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| Kool Keith
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| Nobody can’t see me no more, or be me no more
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| The latest rapper who is it, I don’t even watch TV no more
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| Just 16 points a night, Atlanta Hawk cheerleaders, clap when I score
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| My urination bounce off the basketball floor
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| My texture is tight, wipe my ass on the fiberglass
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| Top draft pick, I’m up in here, you know it homes
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| Compare me to Sean Puffy Combs
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| The New Jersey Nets won’t ignore the bassline dunk
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| C’mon, jump
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| Shocked the V.I.P. |
| section
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| My sneaker prints, show on the backboards with affection
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| Top to bottom I got 'em
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| Keep on jumpin, girls keep pumpin
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| No tipperillos, ingredients better, the pie roaster
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| You must be smokin dust, pull up on you like Doug Collins
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| Albert and Bernards, I burn hard
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| Can’t stop me the show is not finish
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| You saw what happened to Steven Houston, like Ron Artest
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| Rookies comin against ya, is only gonna play 3 minutes
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| My team form in the corner, better than Carmello’s jumper
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| Your wife watchin me in mid-air, then I’m on fan
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| Don’t hate me, you hate Bryan Pumper
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| The underhand fingerroll, when he walked off the court
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| Not impressed with the kicks, who designed the sole
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| My bottom feet stay on the shoulders of Manute Bol
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| I’m worst against the clock
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| Go tell Pee Wee, I’m the best on your block
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| Top to bottom I got 'em
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| My inside game is hard to rub next to the boards
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| My lyrics flow, next to yours
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| Your turnaround is lame, my fadeaway is spectacular
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| Confront TNT, the show with Charles Barkley
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| My simple lay-up looks 10 times better than yours
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| You better on the floors
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| Your mixtape, I call your DJ pause
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| You know the flower |