| Rhyming is a thing that I do at will
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| Be glad to rock a party just to prove my skill
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| J-u-ice is what I’m gaining
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| With a style so fresh that it’s self-explaining
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| Never bite a rhyme, I don’t live that way
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| But when I get dissed, violators pay
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| I’m a crowd motivator, MC annihilator
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| Never front the move 'cause I’m not a perpetrator
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| I don’t really mind bein' criticized
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| But those who try to make fame on my name: die
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| Rhymes of all styles, all categories
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| From fresh freestyles to real fly stories
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| This jam is dedicated to you and your boys
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| And if you knew what I knew then you’d kill that noise
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| I devastate the crowd while the record spins
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| So-called competitors have no wins
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| I laugh at MC’s who call me wack
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| You ordered, and now I’m gonna serve you, Jack
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| We’re respected by all, treated just like kings
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| How could you have the nerve to say such things?
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| If you knew at the time what you were saying
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| You wouldn’t be on your knees — praying
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| You gotta understand I’m not the average MC
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| At the first sign of trouble grab the mic and flee
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| Grab the mic, plug in the beat box jacks
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| Prepare for the battle, then proceed to wax
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| Take as much time I feel is ample
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| To duff an MC to be made example
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| This goes for all sucker MC chumps
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| Who hear my name, and suddenly Kool-Aid pumps
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| So if you’re thinking 'bout dissing me, better think twice
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| 'Cause next time, brother, I won’t be so nice
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| You can come all alone or bring all your boys
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| But if you knew what I knew then you’d kill that noise
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| (South Bronx)
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| Kill that, kill that noise (Repeat x8)
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| I must say MC’s got a lot of spunk
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| To get up on stage and pop so much junk
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| I’m not worried 'cause I don’t get waxed
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| And you wouldn’t believe how hard I max
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| School’s in session, I’m about to teach
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| Versatile with a style that you just can’t reach
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| Lesson number one: first strike aim
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| You shouldn’t do things to degrade my name
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| Your records won’t sell 'cause the people won’t buy 'em
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| A sucker MC’s like chicken: I fry him
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| I started with a smash, I’ma leave with a bang
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| And to put it to you bluntly, MC’s can’t hang
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| Your boys and your family will be grieving your death
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| Weeping while they’re sweeping up the pieces I left
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| You can come all alone or bring all your boys
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| But if you knew what I knew then you’d kill that noise
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| Marley Marl: Yo Shan, I didn’t hear you say Hip Hop started in the Bridge on
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| your record
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| MC Shan: I didn’t, they wanted to get on the bandwagon
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| Because I rhyme so fly, girls can’t resist
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| But her man can’t understand, so he gets pissed
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| Like a preacher at work, when she hurt I’ll heal her
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| I’ll leap, you sleep, and believe I steal her
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| My mama used to say be a ladies' man
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| I used to always wonder why she named me Shan
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| Not hard to pronounce, easy to spell
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| And oh how I love it when the ladies yell
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| Her man better chill when my jacket’s unzipped
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| I got a .25 with an 8 shot clip
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| You’re sayin' to yourself that’s a BB gun
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| But the place that I’mma shoot ya it’ll take just one
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| I’ll rip you into parts, little pieces and specks
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| You’ll be saying to yourself «What can happen next?»
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| This jam is dedicated to you and your boys
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| But if you knew what I knew, then you’d kill that noise
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| Shoulda stayed in school, learned comprehension
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| Trying to state facts that I did not mention
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| Sucker MC’s I hate the most
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| Next time I make a record you should listen close
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| 'Cause MC’s like me are the real McCoys
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| So you sucker MC’s better kill that noise
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| Marley they’re trying to diss us, man
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| What’s wrong with that, I took care of that
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| Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
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| KRS-One and Scott La Rock
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| Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Yo, he talk about, strung on something
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| Man, we cold cooling in the place
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| Drivin' fresh Audis and coupes
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| What’s wrong with y’all
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| Strung?
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| The only thing we strung on is music
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| And you strung on ours |