| Crab rappers!, You need to shut your mouth you don’t want none
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| You need to shut your mouth you don’t want none…
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| Yo! |
| stoned is the wake of the walk, I know you feel me
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| My crew might be sway, yo, but I can see you clearly
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| Smilin', while you robbin' me for my stylin'
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| You need to stop, before you find your grave on Long Island
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| I’m pilin', blowin' stacks, closin' racks
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| It’s all Non here, over ruffneck tracks
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| I’m on a mission, dismissing, all that ass kissin'
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| Before my lyrics burn a hole in your neck, that’s what I’m wishing
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| I’m tapping spines along with your mind
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| Cause I made you feel good when I rocked your whole 'hood
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| My soul run deep, like a crack in the street
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| I keep it real, so you can feel, my true skills
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| 100%, like Absolute, Get gin, you wanna blend with the new trend
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| I got you swaying, whats to say…, You never felt the really real
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| Let me run a tab, and let your ass pay the bill
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| Now wait a minute, hold up, you still wanna test me
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| I’m spraying out lyrics like water from a jet-ski
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| Oh no! |
| You’re still not stepping |
| Towards the same mic I rocked as soon as I crept in
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| Cause I been doing this thing for a whole lot longer
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| And if you wanna rock the spot, you better funk stronger
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| Keep on, and I’ma have to unleash
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| The true funk baby that ain’t nothing but a beast
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| You need practise. |
| then again, it ain’t worth it
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| My brain is a computer so that means I’m word perfect
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| Blowin' through the 'hood, just cold knockin' spots off
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| Get nothing but a chicken and Nonchalant’s got your hot sauce
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| Play your cards right now you sweat the inner city
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| I got all the diamonds so hard so plus I got the kitty
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| You still wanna test me, you must be gun simple son
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| I kick a funky flow like a bowl of rolled chilli’s
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| Now put your mind on the matter, to call your next batter
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| I’m knockin' home runs in your ass so what’s the matter
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| A' take your time cause the funky rhyme blow your mind
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| Strut my stuff cause I’m so tuff, and hard to find
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| In this maze of amazement I got you cornered
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| Cut your dimes and your nickels cause you know your money’s spent |
| Meanwhile back at the ranch, take a chance
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| On this funky head bob that’s gonna make you dance
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| Now even the funky chickens who can make up on the twist came in
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| But do the chicken with the twist and you can blend
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| Put your eyes on the prize, we gonna take a ride
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| So deep in your soul you got tears in your eyes
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| You blinded by the light, now can you see me
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| Cause I know that you feel me cause I’m cutting like a knife
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| With the phife, you flow is so weak I call your punk
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| You starvin' for some soul, yo, you need to bite a chunk |