| Booka-booka-booka-booka-booka-booka
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| Ha hah
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| You know the deal
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| It’s just me yo Beats by Su-Primo for all of my peoples, negroes and latinos
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| and even the gringos
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| Yo, check it one for Charlie Hustle, two for Steady Rock
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| Three for the fourth comin live, future shock
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| It’s five dimensions, six senses
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| Seven firmaments of heaven to hell, 8 Million Stories to tell
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| Nine planets faithfully keep in orbit
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| with the probable tenth, the universe expands len>h The body of my text posess extra stren>h Power-liftin powerless up, out of this, towerin inferno
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| My ink so hot it burn through the journal
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| I’m blacker than midnight on Broadway and Myrtle
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| Hip-Hop past all your tall social hurdles
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| like the nationwide projects, prison-industry complex
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| Broken glass wall better keep your alarm set
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| Streets too loud to ever hear freedom sing
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| Say evacuate your sleep, it’s dangerous to dream
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| but you chain cats get they CHA-POW, who dead now
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| Killin fields need blood to graze the cash cow
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| It’s a number game, but shit don’t add up somehow
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| Like I got, sixteen to thirty-two bars to rock it but only 15% of profits, ever see my pockets like
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| sixty-nine billion in the last twenty years
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| spent on national defense but folks still live in fear like
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| nearly half of America’s largest cities is one-quarter black
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| That’s why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack
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| Sixteen ounces to a pound, twenty more to a ki
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| A five minute sentence hearing and you no longer free
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| 40% of Americans own a cell phone
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| so they can hear, everything that you say when you ain’t home
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| I guess, Michael Jackson was right, You Are Not Alone
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| Rock your hardhat black cause you in the Terrordome
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| full of hard niggaz, large niggaz, dice tumblers
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| Young teens and prison greens facin life numbers
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| Crack mothers, crack babies and AIDS patients
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| Young bloods can’t spell but they could rock you in PlayStation
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| This new math is whippin motherfuckers ass
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| You wanna know how to rhyme you better learn how to add
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| It’s mathematics
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| Chorus: scratched by DJ Premier (repeat 2X)
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| The Mighty Mos Def.
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| It’s simple mathematics →Fat Joe
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| Check it out!
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| I revolve around science.
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| What are we talking about here?
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| . |
| Do your math →Erykah Badu (2X).
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| . |
| One. |
| t-t-two. |
| three, four →James Brown.
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| . |
| What are we talking about here?.
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| Yo, it’s one universal law but two sides to every story
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| Three strikes and you be in for life, manditory
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| Four MC’s murdered in the last four years
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| I ain’t tryin to be the fifth one, the millenium is here
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| Yo it’s 6 Million Ways to Die, from the seven deadly thrills
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| Eight-year olds gettin found with 9 mill’s
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| It’s 10 P.M., where your seeds at? |
| What’s the deal
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| He on the hill puffin krill to keep they belly filled
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| Light in the ass with heavy steel, sights on the pretty shit in life
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| Young soldiers tryin to earn they next stripe
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| When the average minimum wage is $ 5.15
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| You best believe you gotta find a new ground to get cream
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| The white unemployment rate, is nearly more than triple for black
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| so frontliners got they gun in your back
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| Bubblin crack, jewel theft and robbery to combat poverty
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| and end up in the global jail economy
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| Stiffer stipulations attached to each sentence
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| Budget cutbacks but increased police presence
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| And even if you get out of prison still livin
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| join the other five million under state supervision
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| This is business, no faces just lines and statistics
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| from your phone, your zip code, to S-S-I digits
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| The system break man child and women into figures
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| Two columns for who is, and who ain’t niggaz
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| Numbers is hardly real and they never have feelings
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| but you push too hard, even numbers got limits
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| Why did one straw break the camel’s back? |
| Here’s the secret:
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| the million other straws underneath it — it’s all mathematics
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| Mathematics. |