| Aesias Finale: This song is for everyone who’s been stepped over
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| Looked past, ostracized, diminished, forgotten
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| This song is not for self-promotion, but a wake up
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| Call to all you fake-ass DJ’s rocking dusty beats
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| Attention: we have arrived
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| MC Lars:
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| Bob Dylan, the sixties are still going. |
| What? |
| Alright. |
| Technolo-G's.
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| That’s gangsters with computers
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| Guess who’s back with a postmodern rap
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| I pack so much flavor that I make your tongue snap
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| When I’m rappin' on the beat it’s crazy and it’s ill
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| And when I rock the mic, yo I’m Built to Spill
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| I’m Socratic — but it’s Greek to you
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| Like Plato’s Cave Allegory, well I’ll leave your view askew
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| I get metaphysical like Aristotle
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| And when I storm the stage, I do it full throttle
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| I’m a laptop hustler dealing shareware cracks
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| And if you mess with YT your Mac will get hacked
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| My rhymes are so def that they need a hearing aid
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| Ask Andy Warhol — Pop Art gets you paid
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| Like Thomas Aqunias, just call me your heinous
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| And yo, if you step my crew then you’re messing with the finest
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| Like Dante or Chaucer, I’ve got the sickest flows
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| 1, 2, 1, 2 and away we go!
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| K. Flay:
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| Thirty dudes on my jock, I flow smooth like Country Crock
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| No shit Sherlock 'cause I’m top notch
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| Dominate a mic like it’s hopscotch
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| Hotter than a bottle full of hot sauce, I am on fuego
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| Take these haters down then I toast them like some Eggos
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| Man… what you know about me? |
| Five foot seven hella dope MC
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| Eat up the game like Jabba the Hutt
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| Got a big fat wang and a big ol' butt, what’s up?
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| Yeah I read mad books, talk to the boys and they all get shook
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| ‘Cause I got cool style, born in the 80′s
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| Line full of dudes want to have my babies!
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| Yo, it’s going down like «Junior». |
| MC Lars, the Former Fat Boys and Bryce are
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| going to birth some children with my DNA
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| It’s not even a game. |
| I have so many X chromosomes it’s going to blow your mind!
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| YTCracker:
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| Emanating from the speakerbox
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| Other emcees they be kicking rocks I got bigger chops
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| I’m been doing this 10 years finally on the map
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| Got a Mac in my backpack and i still hack
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| But I keep it on the low cuz i dont want to go to jail
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| Epic fail on a triple beam scale
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| Cuz my lyrics like drugs and i write so well
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| I’m still the dg to watch in 2k9
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| And im blowing they mind drip drop my hip hop
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| Like water torture ask mccain
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| Im that geek mc with the brains the braun
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| Sliced up like a taun taun just ask Luke
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| No fluke words hot like alphabet soup
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| Wheres my troops hit the loop and do it again
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| YT go fluid again go through it and win
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| Former Fat Boys:
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| I have arrived, peep the ride, '97 Nian scraped up side
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| You might go blind avert your eyes
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| It’s not what’s out but what’s inside
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| In my brain I know secrets, believe it
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| If you disable the sequence, I still got my
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| Grievance, my huge EPenis
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| Still self-destruct in your face like semen
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| Nerd core beat I’m about the get even
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| With jealous fellas, who try to beam into the scene with jacked beats
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| MC Chris dreaming, want to be mindless, cults claiming genius
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| Put a little Captain Crunch in your cereal port
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| That will shut your mouth so you can’t retort
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| ‘Cause I’m classic, I’m a fantasy star
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| My McDonalds jams blams through the woofer your car
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| I’m so postmodern I’m MC Lars
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| Chicks love a little K. Dick in bars
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| They like it when you’re well versed, fully alive
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| That’s why you’ll never get here and we’ve arrived
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| That’s why you’ll never get here and we’ve arrived
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| We’ve arrived
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| Hi |