| Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith
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| Uh Mr Smith, it’s the bomb y’knowhutI’msayin? |
| Mr Smith
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| Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out
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| I’m goin' to the top, leavin' smoke in my trail
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| Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale
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| And even if I’m twice as expensive as the rest
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| When I go for dolo, you ain’t checkin' for nothin' less
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| My strategy is splittin' brain cavity’s
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| It’s ya majesty bringin' you a tragedy
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| Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox
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| When it’s time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock
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| I bust through all types of red tape and sue papes
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| Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate
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| I’m cuttin' snakes through the belly witta icepick
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| And scoopin' hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips
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| It’s the rebirth of murkin' niggas once again
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| I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen
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| I’m breakin' ribs 'til somethin' gives
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| A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| What? |
| You wanna do what? |
| You lack the vitality
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| Originality, so face reality
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| I’m on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can’t get wit
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| Matter of fact, mornin' yawn and suck a dick
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| Nah hold up, the fuck is goin' on?
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| All these cartoon character MC’s gettin' airborne
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| Takin off like a hot air balloon
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| Goin up up up, oh no kaboom
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| Bring your heroes down to ground zero
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| Shotty grippin' ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro
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| I’m on some shit, throats is gettin' shit
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| Scoopedin' New Jacks and kick 'em in the fire pit
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| Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and stick it
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| Cos when it comes to this rap shit I’m mad wicked
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| The grand sire bringin' flavor to the whole game
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| Mr Smith is my motherfuckin' name
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| To the bridge
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| Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth)
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| Talkin' 'bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh
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| Talkin 'bout Mr Smith
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| Talkin 'bout Mr Smith
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| Talkin 'bout
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| Time’s up, your rhyme’s up, mix the lines up
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| I’m about to blow the spot up with that divine touch
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| I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic
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| Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic
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| Guan boy it’s the champion Mr Smith
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| Your niggas couldn’t raise up with a forklift
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| Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar
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| It’s hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party
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| All your so-called flavor niggas is deaded
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| Your next step is where ya headed so don’t forget it
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| Your rhymes is beat, your steelo’s scarred to scrape
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| When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth
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| I get’cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray
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| Lethal compositions around your way
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| I’m the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith
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| Rippin' ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up
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| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |