| yea
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| ludacris in this mutha fucka
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| what up talib disturbin tha peace god damnit we just gettin started
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| mix tape style goes like this
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| look here
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| now ludacris out the gate and damnit its huntin season
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| when you shot remember everything happens for a reason
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| and you never hit it right
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| thats why i’m snatchin your girl
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| she calls me mr. |
| drummin
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| cuz different strokes rule the world
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| i got a thirst for knowledge and an appetite for drama
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| or appetite for destruction and a thirst for your mama
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| either way I keep it goin til that thing is empty
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| been nice since mike tyson punched soda popinsky
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| chicks keep gettin stung cuz they all in my swarm
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| plus I step in they dorm they get more tears than norm
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| its 2004 the world needs more lesbians
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| and more drunk drivers to hit drunk pedestrians
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| they walk around here with two left feet
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| a warm milk and a cold gat’ll put your ass to sleep
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| how many streets steal no matter how ugly it seems
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| long as I got on my bullet proof buddy lee jeans
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| nigga
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| yea, its like that
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| its like that
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| its like that
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| its like that
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| mutha fucka!
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| kweli and crips niggas never heard no shit like this
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| i got your chick feelin moist
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| you comin softer than the ad in the back of the village voice
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| you still a toy, the cops is still a boy
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| they tryin to get me to vote by sayin the lesser of
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| two evils is still a choice
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| well maybe and maybe not
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| niggas rhymin like the guy 80 glock
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| im home watching i love the 80s
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| stop
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| picture the ocean with the panoramic view
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| my flow the iceberg that the titanic ran into
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| ooahh
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| rock like suicide vicitims with red flannel
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| why your rhymes sound like they was written for clear channel
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| we used to drive to 50 states and hear 50 flows
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| now every city knows sames songs its just again pimps and hos
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| and the kids think the key to gettin down in the game
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| is to copy the hot nigga and start soundin the same
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| now you tryin to be heard but your shouts in vain
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| cuz you drowned out by the buzz thats surroundin my name
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| kweli
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| it might be somethin that you can’t pry from me
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| shut out the eye 20s see my rhymes good money
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| we’re rollin with akmed and durba swervin the streets
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| we’re shaka zoolo shana and luda disturbin tha peace
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| i murdered the beat
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| im the nightmare that recur in your sleep
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| a word in the flesh like the wafer that the nun got converted to eat
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| takin the lamb of god herded the sheep
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| a whole flock of __ nigga do you believe
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| yo wats poppin its the kid kain
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| ya my nigga ludacris
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| my homeboy my dawg my brother from another mother
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| talib kweli
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| and this is how we do man
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| hate it or love it
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| guess who fresher than i
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| d dies red and black lumber jack 45 in his levis
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| he has his knees highs
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| i watch eazy e rise
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| put LA on nomatic but they ain’t beleive nas
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| that was 96 in the g __
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| told me they gon believe start writin rhymes after BIG died
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| eyes puffy some niggas sayin fuck me
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| cuz im from the west im fresh and i idolize dougie
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| now NY love me still niggas wanna hate
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| im embraced by 50 states and the westside love me
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| benz told dre im the nigga to chase
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| and it been that way since the beef with jigga and mase
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| in my chuck taylors red ones with the fat laces
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| ten khakis desert eagle with the hollow tip laces
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| fresh white tee yellow rocks in my necklace
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| real gangsters drink 40 ounces for breakfast
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| i eat fat burgers three times a day
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| so fuck you if you dont like the red paint on my 6 straight
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| i was born in the hood, i be who i be
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| and me and kweli is like mack 10 and dub c |