| Man 1: Kill him!
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| Man 2: How much is it worth?
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| Man 1: Anything! |
| Hundred grand! |
| Two hundred! |
| Alright, five!
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| Man 2: Truth is, I liked my work, I would’ve done it for nothin'
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| Warrior — Conqueror
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| The victorious — VIC, I’m BK glorious
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| Back! |
| — to settle the score
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| Big metal .44 — Above and beyond the law
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| Carnivore, T-Rex — dinosaur
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| Reptile, climby, slimy, grimy, raw
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| My actions speak louder than words on the record
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| Shit that can’t be heard on the record
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| I violate through ya at a higher rate
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| Started in my borough, then bled the entire state
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| Illest epidemic ever to be airborne
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| Crazy ups, I can slam with my on
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| Top notch jam still in form
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| Got some years on, now I put my on
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| So play the background close little buster
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| Pull out the toast and make a roast, motherfucker
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| Goons on deck! |
| (deck!)
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| Buck! |
| — when they catch you for thirty G’s
|
| They don’t give a fuck where they stretch
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| It’s a bounty on ya head for bread — I put the hit out!
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| It’s a bounty on ya head, you dead — I put the hit out!
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| Yo — I said I don’t punch lines, I knock bars the fuck out
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| Types frighting, like lightning struck out
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| Drop one LP, they callin' me the GOAT
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| Judge threw the book at me from the murder I wrote
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| And the further I boast, it gets deeper than rap
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| Spit ether on track, to put my streets on the map
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| Put my streets on the map, to give the children a chance
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| To make it out the hood, come back — build and advance
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| It’s the God, Hip Hop has risen from the dead
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| I know you can’t see it, put the vision in your head
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| I’m accurate, nice precision with the lead
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| Immaculate — I’m in the kitchen bakin' bread
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| My nigga Sean P, my nigga big Rock
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| Juxx, Smiff-N-Wessun and the homie Buckshot
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| We form like Voltron, choppin' ya dome off
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| Broad day, lettin' the chrome off (brah-brah)
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| Goons on deck! |
| (deck!)
|
| Buck! |
| — when they catch you for thirty G’s
|
| They don’t give a fuck where they stretch
|
| It’s a bounty on ya head for bread — I put the hit out!
|
| It’s a bounty on ya head, you dead — I put the hit out!
|
| I got shots for them niggas in the front (front)
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| Them niggas in the back (back)
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| Them niggas in the middle layin' flat
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| How the fuck you sellin' that crack
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| Yellin' that’s rap, nigga i’mma put a shell in that cap
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| I’m the greatest of the great (of the great)
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| You can’t get on my level, you a lower like the fakest of the fake
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| Yeah — shit that I create, they called masterpieces
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| Sort of like the master’s thesis
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| I’m destined to prevail, that’s why I inhale the piff
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| Never does it cease to uplift
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| Slumdog Millionaire, rags to riches
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| Green stacks, made backs plaques and bitches
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| Goons on deck!
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| Buck! |
| — when they catch you for thirty G’s
|
| They don’t give a fuck where they stretch
|
| It’s a bounty on ya head for bread — I put the hit out!
|
| It’s a bounty on ya head, you dead — I put the hit out! |