| Knuckleheads spreadin' gossip all over town
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| Every time I drive by you’re just standin' around
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| Hundred-bottles in your pocket, forty-dog in your hand
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| Don’t you know you’re just a worker and your boss is my man?
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| L.L. this, L.L. that, soon as I walk in the place
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| I wanna take my gun and shoot you in your muthafuckin' face
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| You’re playin' me too close with the schemin' and games
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| I guess the beef and the bullshit is the price of fame
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| Movies, records, goin' on tour
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| Twenty-thousand people hip-hoppin' on the floor
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| Whole parties body-rockin', and everything’s chill
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| Get back to New York, and the suckers act ill
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| See I fought with the devil, made a promise to God
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| I have experience in goin' all the way to the top
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| It’s harder harder than hard
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| All the suckers are barred
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| You used to try to talk down now your ego is scarred
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| See the problem is you want what another man has
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| His car, his wife, or his razzamatazz
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| But that’s weak, you gotta do work on your own
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| Cuz when you’re rich you got friends
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| But when you’re poor you’re alone
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| So get your own on your own, it’ll strengthen your soul
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| Stop livin' off your parents like you’re three years old
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| Instead of walkin' like you’re limp and talkin' yang about me
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| Why don’t you take your monkey-ass and get a college degree?
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| Or write a rhyme and ride a bike and try to live carefree
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| Hope my message reaches you before you’re seventy-three
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| A old man, when people ask you what you did with your life
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| You’ll say «I hated L.L. and I carried a big knife»
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| Every day is a chase, every day is a race
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| And every day you’re being overpowered by my bass
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| Too much juice to be a deuce, I had to be a ace
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| It’s like the fire’s in my eyes and the gun’s in my face
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| I’m stompin' stupid knuckleheads until they bleed
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| I’m the leader of the show, so it’s up to me to lead
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| I’mma lead you away from drugs and petty crime
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| Lead you away from wack beats and rhyme
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| Lead you to that ticket line
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| So you can come in my show and watch the stars shine
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| Get busy, not dizzy, wanna teach the young
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| The last man who didn’t listen ended up gettin' hung
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| Not that I killed him, it’s just
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| He didn’t wanna trust
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| The words of a master that’s why you must
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| Take heed to the speech, it’s gonna reach your ear
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| Don’t try to say you can’t hear cuz the words are clear
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| Throwin' flurries, punks scurry and I bury the rest
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| You better hurry up and rock a rhyme and give it your best
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| Cuz tonight’s the night we gonna see the big fight
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| Twelve-gauge on the stage in case it don’t go right
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| E-Love drives a tank, he’s strong like a truck
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| If you’re cryin' while you’re dyin' we ain’t givin' a fuck
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| L.L. Cool J is on the microphone
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| Tellin' all you punk ducks «Leave me the hell alone»
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| Cuz I’m rated X, born to snap necks
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| Straight up and down, no special effects
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| I’m the professor, the teacher, the hip-hop dean
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| If Russia bombed the U.S., they’d be scared to touch Queens
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| Cuz that’s where I live, and this is what I give
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| Turnin' top-notch crews into fugitives
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| They run, they frightened, they hide from King Titan
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| Like a sniper when he’s shootin' or a viper when he’s bitin'
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| Here I am, tellin' the truth
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| And I’m spreadin' the word to my fellow youth
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| It goes man-to-man and jam-to-jam
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| I got hip-hop, rock, and love song fans
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| All you petty MC’s in the state of New York
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| Gettin' a thousand for a show but you still wanna squawk
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| Can’t get a decent contract, your beats ain’t workin'
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| Dogged-out Pumas plus you’re manager’s jerkin'
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| Your mic sounds weak, remember that skeezer
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| I’m badder than Napoleon, Hitler or Caesar
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| I’m a hitman, but I’m not for hire
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| Fly girl’s desire, the man you admire
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| Not only on the stage, I rock in the park
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| And I’m a killer in the daytime, and worse after dark
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| So don’t never ever mess with the king of the sound
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| L.L. Cool J, the baddest around |