| Bottomless notepads you can’t fathom my body of work
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| I’m handling words, I demand I damage a verse, Stop him
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| I demand I butcher these lines with a knife or like I forgot them
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| The verbal predator, spreading the message letter by letter
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| To level competitors, Crash Nebula, Timmy Turner the veteran, Wishing for world
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| peace, They lack benevolence
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| Mostly hoodies and sweats I came to represent
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| There can only be one, and can’t anyone hold me
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| Discussing my travels among second hand smoke from my homies
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| You couldn’t follow my tracks regardless of how you peddling
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| Get buried by the Kazekage for meddling In rebelling against the Elohim
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| I’m Gaara on Tatooine, using The Force, forging sandstorms
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| And put, every emcee in front of me in a half-leg Boston Crab like Lance Storm
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| You can’t fathom my brainstorm, they call me Voldemort I hold the fort
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| Kidnap emcees my notebook smelling like chloroform
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| You misinformed, I feel like Jason Bourne
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| This shit is boring when it’s, second nature to snap arms on every rap song
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| I last long in every aspect just blast off, when tunes play
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| I’m Doomsday minus the grey skin, and it’s doomsday to your stereo
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| In any scenario do the, Doomsday Device a little better than Hawk and Animal
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| Blast raps intellectual, Gambit, shuffle the cards I was dealt and throw them
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| at a Sentinel
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| It’s robots on the pedestal
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| It’s pointless to point guns at Magneto, they made of metal fool…
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| (Hook)
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| (x4) It’s pointless to point guns at Magneto they made of metal fool |