| This is somethin' that I call a flow
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| Not many if any except for Vinnie can say they know
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| In fact, the track is that is something that I rarely show
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| Because my tongue is actually fast, but then again, it’s slow
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| So, yo (Throw it, bro)
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| You say Jiggaboo, a name pertained for niggas who (Who?)
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| Who hear that name and place a trigger to the figure who
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| It blew through and if you try to rip, I throw a bigger blue shoe to you
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| And if you take the shoe, a nigga dagger will do, ooh
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| Treach is the best of the rest, but if they try to diss it
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| Well guess then, nigga, I’ll take a pic to see who was the naughty or nicest
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| Like Isis, I’m priceless, plug new mic to it
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| Come with a D with a I with a S to the S to see who’s hypest
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| Test the test the Treach to Treach, address the address
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| How I’ll bless and blow any conflicts
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| Why they try to clone my style? |
| It’s just nonsense
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| M-m-miggity-miggity-maggity-maggity is all you get out of it
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| Any and all should fall, many is small should call
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| Naughty By Nature the greater of all y’all
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| Showboat, show no hope, and can’t cope, so no way
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| This is how we play every day, all day
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| Yo, yo, hey, yo
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| Havin' a rather cadaver gather matters is drastically
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| Never say never whenever and whether the weak come on after thee
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| Kay and the Gee the producer, me gets loose off of claps, you see
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| That keeps you boogieing happily
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| Voice your opinion, it’s the rhythm I’m lendin'
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| The message I’m sendin' from London to Linden
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| Girls are given a chance to get you all pampered
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| Leaving more cramps in your pants then a bellydancer
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| God is good and if you would, you should just
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| Play to the way that I say, and play all day is what He’ll bless
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| I’m leavin' 'em evil and seein' 'em bein' a torture with dull props
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| I won’t give up 'til you had 'nough of these skull shots
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| Now let the hard floor break your fall, darlin'
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| 'Cause on the strength, the Naughty Nature ain’t waltzin'
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| When we dance, we come full thrust, the bum rush
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| Knockin' and poppin' 'em up in the socket and rockin' dawn 'til dusk
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| I ain’t the type to get sooped or psyched
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| I feel I’m better than ever before, but as a rapper, I’m just alright
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| Showin' time is for clocks, not hip-hoppers
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| Pop pop, you try to shine, I make your heart work proper
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| And that’s comin' from the drifter and if you
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| R-U-N yo L-I-P, you will B-E G-O-N-E
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| So let the just gettin' by songs be bygones
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| Nevertheless, it’s definitely hits and hits are what we strive on
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| We flow this way every single day, all day
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| So make way
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| What’s up to all you MC Cub Scouts?
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| Grub scouts gettin' rubbed out
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| I’ll bet you kept your album froze 'til this came out
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| Gettin' ideas to use, a half of a snare or two
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| Snatchin' and maxin' a rap that I’m castin', how dare you
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| How the hell can you yell what someone else said?
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| I must got, «I wanna loan what I own,» on my forehead, huh
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| But I doubt that, and now you wanna back out
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| Your career had more ins and outs than a crackhouse
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| I’m mackin' and rackin' and cappin the acts and I wax 'em with-with a smack
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| You scare me as much as McGruff with a wiffle bat
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| And that’s simply elementary, Watson
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| So pack your track and do five flat in your Datsun
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| Now let my canine backtrack the copycat
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| Your night life is up, so what, you happy you got a soundtrack?
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| Well, so do seven thousand other rappers, groovy
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| The cuts you made for that movie ain’t soothe me
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| Who said that Treach can’t work when he don’t curse?
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| I’m nasty, ask me, naughty and nappy, but happy
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| I’m all that and never go out the small way
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| You need a lift? |
| We go this way every day, all day
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| Your little tape got more blank spots than a tank top, think, stop
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| You oughta store it all, fast forward 'fore I ring props
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| Your sorry sideshow, immature rhyme ho
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| Come rock a lil' somethin', know we’re all outta time so
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| From Chilltown JC to Brooklyn with AD
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| I’m rippin' things daily, no if, ands, or maybes
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| At the F-L and the A-V, the O-R, B-A-by
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| Kris, the Jungle Brothers, Tribe Called Quest, yeah, they be
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| Down with Sha-K-I-M, him, a man that’s swifter than
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| The ruler, Lord Ramsey comes handy on the road again |
| Mark the 45, kizz-nils, fills the reels
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| With the real chill, not the run-of-the-mill deals
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| Get poopoo dooie, producer Louie Louie
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| Throw a dance track to me, to me
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| So that sometimes like through me
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| I can’t forget the De La, the Soul, and Native Tongue patrol
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| A strong, «What up?» |
| to the brothers from the Nature, yo
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| We got the catchy Apache, the rocking Lakim
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| The never sloppy Latee, don’t even try to outrhyme them
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| The stable not cocky Lord Alibaski and Chill Rob G
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| There’s trouble day with Double J, there’s no probs, see
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| We also got the speaker Latifah, the Queen of the Flavor
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| And nothin' weaker, behind is Swatch and Kika
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| The Digital Under-the-under-the-ground, rocks with Shock and 2Pac
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| With Money B, Humpty and Jimmy, the master of the chops
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| And on the tip with several brothers, we must gets
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| It’s Tahid, Akeem, Cracker C, and Cee Justice
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| Plus it’s the voice behind the Flavor Unit, on time or early
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| It’s our girlie, head of the headquarters, Shirley
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| And we’ll put last but not least, Camille
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| I feel you learned the way we come this deep every day, all day
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| You know what I’m sayin?
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| We got the newest member of the Flavor Unit, Def Jef in effect
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| We got the producer of this track, Kay-Gee
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| We got my girl Nikki D in the house
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| My man engineer all-star Dave
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| My man on the sax, Andy
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| We got another engineer Angie and assistant Todd
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| We got Anj-Du, G-Quick
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| We got the whole entire 18th Street Posse, Rasheem, Mook Daddy
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| Skee Steve Hammer, Howie Cru-Ru, M-Dee, Tak Diesel, Na-Na
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| We got my girl Aphrodite and her posse in the house
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| Cherokee, Topin, and Lisa
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| And we outta here like last year
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| 'Cause we come this deep every day, all day
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| Peace |