| That makes me know that what we’re doing
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| We had the right idea in the beginning
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| And and we just need to maintain our focus and elevate
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| We what we do we update our formulas
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| We have certain formulas but we update em (oh right)
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| With the times and everything y’know
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| So y’know the rhyme style is elevated
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| The style of beats is elevated but it’s still Guru and Premier
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| And it’s always a message involved
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| The real (The real)
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| Hip-hop (Hip-hop)
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| MCing (MCing), and
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| DJing (DJing), from your own mind (from your own mind,)
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| You know? |
| (you know?)
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| I, I guess right now we should start the show
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| Who’s the suspicious character
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| Strapped with the sounds profound
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| Similar to rounds spit by Derringers
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| You’re in the Terrordome, like my man Chuck D said
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| It’s time to dethrone you clones and all you knuckleheads
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| ‘Cause MC’s have used up extended warranties
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| While real MC’s and DJ’s are a minority
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| But right about now, I use my authority
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| ‘Cause I’m like the Wizard, and you look lost like Dorothy
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| The horror be when I return for my real people
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| Words that split wigs hitting like some double Desert Eagles
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| Sporting caps pulled low, and baggy slacks
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| Subtracting all the rappers who lack over Premier’s tracks
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| Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse
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| So as I have in the past, I whoop ass
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| Dropping lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax
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| And one-dimensional MC’s can’t handle that
|
| While the world’s revolving, on its axis
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| I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics
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| The wilderness is filled with this
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| So many people searching for false bliss
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| I’m here with the skills you’ve missed
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| The rejected stone is now the cornerstone
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| Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home
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| You know my steez
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| You know my steez
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| Let 'em know, do your thing, God
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| Keep it live (Keep it live, Keep it live)
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| To the beat y’all
|
| The beat is sinister, Primo makes you relax
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| I’m like the minister, when I be lacing the wax
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| I be bringing salvation through the way that I rap
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| And you know, and I know, I’m nice like that
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| Work through worldly problems, I got the healing power
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| When the mic’s within my reach, I’m feeling more power
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| Stealing at least three minutes of every rap radio hour
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| It’s often easier for one to give advice
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| Than it is for a person to run one’s own life
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| That’s why I can’t be caught up in all the hype
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| I keep my soul tight and let these lines take flight
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| The apparatus gets blessed
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| And suckers get put to rest
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| No more of the unpure, I got the cure for this mess
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| The wackness is spreading like the plague
|
| MC’s lucked up and got paid
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| But still can’t make the fucking grade
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| How many times are wannabe’s gonna lie?
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| Yo, they must wanna fry
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| They can’t touch the knowledge I personify
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| I travel through the darkness, carrying my torch
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| The illest soldier, when I’m holding down the fort
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| You know my steez
|
| (You know my steez)
|
| Let em know, do your thing, God
|
| Keep it live (Keep it live)
|
| You know my steez
|
| Let em know, do your thing, God
|
| Keep it live (Keep it live)
|
| You know my steez
|
| Let em know, do your thing, God
|
| Keep it live (Keep it live)
|
| You know my steez
|
| Let em know, do your thing, God
|
| Keep it live (Keep it live)
|
| The mic
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| On the microphone, you know that I’m one of the best yet
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| Some punks ain’t paid all of their debts yet
|
| Trying to be fly, riding high on the jet-set
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| With juvenile rhymes, making fake-ass death threats
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| Big deal, like En Vogue, here’s something you can feel
|
| Styles more tangible, and image more real
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| For some time now, I’ve held the scrolls and manuscripts
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| When it’s time to go all out you be like, «Damn, he flipped!»
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| Now I’m sick, fed up with the bullshit
|
| Got the lyrical full clip, giving you a verbal asswhip
|
| Don’t trip, it’s the gifted prolific one
|
| Known as Bald Head Slick why is the press all on my di-dick?
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| My style be wilder than a kamikaze pilot
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| Don’t try it, I’m about to start more than a frigging riot
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| Styles unsurpassable, and nuccas that’s suckas
|
| Yo, them motherfuckers are harrassable
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| For I be speaking from my parables and carry you beyond
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| The mic’s either a magic wand
|
| Or it gets tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb
|
| Then I grab your palm, no pulse, you’re gone
|
| And if you thought we’d lose our niche
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| In this rap shit, you way wrong
|
| I stay up, I stay on, shine bright, like neon
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| Your song’s pathetic, synthetic, like Rayon
|
| Fat beats, they play on, want dope rhymes, put me on
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| Word is bond
|
| You know my steez |