| «Dropped outta school early so I could get me some paper
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| That’s a good book, I don’t mind you gettin knowledge about the game
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| You dig? |
| So you won’t have to have those young girls fool ya, you dig?
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| Trick ya outta your check, so you can learn about it
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| Don’t try to play if you ain’t ready for it
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| Cuz the game could be detrimental to ya boy.»
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| I Silver Surf the city circuit, forever lurkin on the street surface
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| I spit blood for blood verses
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| Plan span divided, we still stand conquer land
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| One man’ll body slam Def Jam
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| Focus ya head cam, zoom in, we radio tunin
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| I know you’re listenin so I keep showin and provin
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| Play the sideline, waitin for the right time to take mine
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| Street crime, nickel and dime rhyme
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| f*ck a peace talk, let the gun spark, on the streets of New York
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| I Shaolin strut through the city asphalt, FED UP
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| Hold ya head up, I’m circlin the block, keep ya eyes up
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| Wise up before you get sized up (tied up)
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| Play no game, speakin on my name you catch a clip full
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| from close range, diggin in your pocket, take the loose change
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| Punch the data in ya mainframe
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| You want it all, I want the same thing
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| Strive to maintain, live out my name
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| Hard to obtain, hard to explain, ain’t nuttin changed
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| Leave the same way I came, Bringin motherf*ckin Pain
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| Killa Hill projects, hi-tech street intellect
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| Best connect, blow your headset, f*ck a mic check
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| Bring em round the underground, pocket full of sound
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| Ashes to ashes y’all n*ggaz goin down
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| Eat sh*t and die slow, battle ground no survival
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| You goin down, y’all n*ggaz f*ck around
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| sh*ttin where you sleepin, so my rhyme Proposal came Indecent
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| Beef from the butcher, sink your teeth in
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| f*ck what you believe in, you real-fake
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| Fishin in the same lake, eatin off the same cake you blow face
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| Who go that ready cook, synthetic look, actin crook
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| Betty shook worm, tryin to shake the hook as the world turn
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| n*gga burn, once again the Super Sperm, rub it in
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| your skin, like it’s Lubriderm, time took to write this
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| The war will be fought by the righteous
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| Who stand criticized by his un A*Alikeness
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| Knowledge is the truth and it’s priceless
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| Real like them Rahway Lifers, nuttin but time on my hands
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| Observe the black sands in the hourglass, fallin fast
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| In the savage land haulin ass, Days of Thunder
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| It’s Road Rage, your days are numbered
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| What RZA put together let no man tear asunder (motherf*cker!)
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| This is P.L.O., Killa Hill flow but you don’t hear me though
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| Live in stereo, pumpin loud until your speaker blow
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| Ghetty-o slang pro, sling rap for cash flow
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| Keep it live from the intro until the outro
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| I’m on a suicide run, y’all n*ggaz know the outcome
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| Razor sharp tongue leave scars in your eardrum
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| Forty-five bar seminar, ghetto rap star
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| Slide like water rats through the Staten Reservoir
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| Swingin swords cut your mic cord, snatch ya rap awards
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| Commercial cats f*ckin up the game, that’s why I crash boards
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| Break laws, wired jaw, keep on tryin yours
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| Hardcore, something that my street n*ggaz is dyin for
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| Snatch your neck and the dope fiend, Golgo 13
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| Professionals wit no things, say no more
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| Check my Dogs at the Reservoir
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| Gourmet special of the day is n*gga Souflee, pusher gotta pay
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| And the games people play, John J. back around the way
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| Fish filet, Mister DJ, turn it up a notch
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| Hit the replay, for dirt bomb n*ggaz in the P.J.
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| to Klingon, bring on, the Good Times for Keyon
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| Hood rhymes that’s be-yond ya thinkin
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| For eons, I’ve been hear to shine on the black minds
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| Tell you like the last time, year of the grimy n*gga
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| Rag time, bad sign, flatline
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| «It's easy to get into the game, but once you get on top
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| Can you stay there?» |