| I ain’t trying to win the battle I’ma win the war
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| I don’t dance in the club dawg I dance wit wolves
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| Sip on the fine potion, enhance my thoughts
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| Spit murder death kill, I can’t get caught
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| Been sick so long I think I need a clinic
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| You got tons of guns, ok we get it
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| I’ma true emcee see I don’t need a gimmick
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| Don’t wanna build wit y’all unless you mean digits
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| And I don’t get invovled wit you weak bitches
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| I keep my problem solved put 'em in deep ditches
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| You’se internet hoe, you trying to network
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| You make a few bucks at show, what is your net worth?
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| Waiting on my downfall, don’t hold your breath first
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| And if your squad run deep I push a stretch hearse
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| Y’all all welcomed to the jungle where the Vet lurk
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| Where Kamach and Celph Titled I hope that vest work
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| (Chorus) Planetary 2x
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| There’s nothing you can say to us Too many niggas hating us Its outta line, we outta time
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| So start spraying them up Kamach laying in the cut
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| We bread breaking it up AOTP!!! |
| Ain’t nobody greater then us I dash outta my bat cave, wit black shades
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| A fresh fade and an Onyx mad face
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| This is the deadliest rap you discovered
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| We overflow storm drains bring it back to the gutta
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| And no you couldn’t match to my voice from speech course
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| I talk raspy, I’ma animal, I speak horse
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| My vocal chords is Tyrannosaurus
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| And the coordinates from the signal in space went undistorted
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| Says that I’m more Mormon, more then purpose abortion
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| Amongst dead swordfish sort of corpse assortment
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| Army swordsman, Pharaoh Marksmen
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| We got canonist of carnage, barrels of arsine
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| I’m heralded often as one of underground raps
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| Wildest, illest, greatest, sickest and vengeance
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| Of spitting image of a Satanic spawn
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| Wit eight mechanic arms
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| Make a fist in each one will bless you wit a cannon ball
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| I don’t write my freestyle that’s some New York shit
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| If it’s written the composition cost a few more chips
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| I’m Illadelph born, scorned by the Bush administration
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| Hopefully Barack can help the children get some motivation
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| I’ma punish every politician try to hurt my babies
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| I hope McCain OD off cocaine wit his lady
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| But anyway back to the rap dungeon circumference
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| My comfort zone is attract to make niggas wanted to throw punches
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| You lunge then I’m leaping, you front I’m feasting
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| You bumming I’m beasting, it ain’t nuttin to beat 'em
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| Till the blood is underneath 'em
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| I bring the thunder even if the sun a hundred beaming
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| Six million ways to die, here go a hundred keep 'em
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| I’ma fucking demon, bitch nigga guzzle semen
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| Like cheerleaders on the side, what’s the fucking reason?
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| Y’all niggas look like water boys on stage
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| Type of niggas that I pray gets on the part wit the gauge
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| (Chorus) Planetary 2x
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| Yeah, African Priest, Dashiki’s wit bullet holes
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| Try to kill me I get in the casket befo bullet close
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| My whole angle serpentine in the rainbow
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| Spit voodoo rap, hear it in the Haitian-Congo
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| Daily is the break dance, mind in the straight trance
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| Old school murdah, arms crossed in a great stance
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| '80s style dirty Louis Vuitton
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| You talk Mob shit but I really flew them to Milan
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| Between the Crypt and Planet
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| Straight from the strip wit advantage
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| But from the Heavens I’m banished
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| Yeah! |
| But the sevens will manage
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| Cuz the sixes is bitches
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| Five pointed stars on the stage, slitting their wrists
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| Scorched by the beautiful eyes of the Pharaohs mistress
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| Number 1 on the mythical hit list, I am this
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| Just look at the way the gem glist
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| Messiah Marley, keep some Solomon stems twist
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| (Chorus) Planetary 2x
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| (Outro) Chief Kamachi (Celph Titled)
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| Ah (Rock-rock-on)
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| Y’all know what it is
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| (OS rock-rock-on)
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| AOTP nigga (Rock-rock-on)
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| Celph Titled (Rock-rock-on)
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| OS (Rock-rock-on)
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| Chief Kamachi (Rock-rock-on) |