| I been bombin' lay ups since the age of nine
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| I seen my older brother bombin' so I had to get mine
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| Snuck out my window just to write on the train
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| Just a couple of years and I knew I get fame
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| 1982 and they put me down and brang me to the yards where the kings throw down
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| Bombin' insides doggin' whole cars
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| My brothers burnin' styles from door to door
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| Runnin' through my veins
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| Cause I’m fiendin' for the graff
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| Paint on my jacket and the ink on my hands
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| Runnin' through the lay up cause I’m out to bomb
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| This one goes out to the writers on the storm
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| Rock on, to the break of dawn, break of dawn
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| Keep it on, keep it on
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| Rock on to the break of dawn, break of dawn
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| Keep it on, keep it on
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| Grab your cans cause we’re runnin' down the hatch
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| Hidin' from trains trippin' over tracks
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| Runnin' from the law just for a cause
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| Youth run wild man go and get yours
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| Rollin' thunder writers inks no crime
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| Never pay the fare man fuck the one time
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| Bombin' Coney Island how about Brighton
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| Just a little dude in the midst of mothafuckin' giants
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| Here to bomb the system so you’ll recognize
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| All around kings Lordz of Brooklyn in the house
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| I’m trapped in the hatch cause the tunnels caused with 50
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| Work bums detects damn I got to hide bro
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| Runnin' through the lay up gettin' chased on the tracks
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| Duckin' nexts to flats with the duffle bag on my back
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| So now they’re on my tail my face is turnin' pale
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| I’m prayin' oh my God I can’t go to jail
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| Feet don’t fail me now cause I’m close to the exit Rammellzee
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| Come on with the next shit |