| I never freestyle for free, without chargin' niggas a fee
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| It’ll cost you a brain cell just to cypher with me
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| I’m the type of MC that rocks for the glory
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| I don’t give a fuck if you ignore me or camcord me
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| Freestyle or written, spittin' with infinite ammunition
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| For anybody tryin' to go the distance
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| I promise ya no less than a hundred-thousand kilometers
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| My bomb threats’ll have you evacuatin' your continent
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| I’m barbaric with the alphanumeric
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| Hittin' you with lyrics that separate your body from your spirit
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| This is for wack niggas doin' shows and shit
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| Cause I’ll be in the crowd if you ain’t controllin it
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| (Drop the mic, you shouldn’t be holdin it)
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| I roll with the wildest niggas
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| West Indian Island niggas, unemployed jobless niggas
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| The foulest niggas, who never smile at niggas
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| Some hostile violent, chemically imbalanced niggas
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| We savages, snatchin' microphones from amateurs
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| Cause like women who get abortions, I ain’t havin' it
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| I rip you, my metaphor content, will split you
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| Into little powder-like crystals so I can sniff you
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| What I say should be displayed at the Smithsonian
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| Your rhymes are phonier than cubic zirconias
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| Have you any idea what I do to crews like you
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| How many niggas in my career, I ran through?
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| Comin' after ya, blastin' ya
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| With the shotgun like a front seat passenger
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| You must be askin' for some sort of a massacre
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| I’ll attack ya cardiovascular
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| Shatter you like glass in automobile crashes
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| When I smash that ass into blackberry molasses
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| Rip your speaker to ashes, and kick a hole in it
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| Cause I’ll be in the crowd if you ain’t controllin it
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| You see I roll with the wildest niggas
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| West Indian Island niggas, unemployed jobless niggas
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| The foulest niggas, who never smile at niggas
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| Some hostile violent, chemically imbalanced niggas
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| See I roll with the wildest niggas
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| West Indian Island niggas, unemployed jobless niggas
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| The foulest niggas, who never smile at niggas
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| Some hostile violent, chemically imbalanced niggas
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| I’m the illest lyricist in America
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| MC’s can’t see me 'cause I’m too quick for the human retina to register
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| I roll up on ya crew quicker than long sleeves
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| At a Speed that would confuse Keanu Reeves
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| So ask yourself, who am I?
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| I’m the illest MC that you ever seen in your fuckin' life
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| I hop into the backseat of a cab and rhyme
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| Till the meter says nine, nine, nine, nine
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| Line for line I battle any kind of MC at any time
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| Whether they signed or unsigned
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| With many lines, more lines than a million pair of Adidas
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| More lines than the Bible quoted from Jesus
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| More lines than a African herd of zebras
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| Niggas just ain’t fuckin' with the Canibus sativa
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| This is for all you niggas doin' shows and shit
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| 'Cause I’ll be in the crowd if you ain’t controllin' it
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| (Drop the mic, you shouldn’t be holdin it)
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| See I roll with the wildest niggas
|
| West Indian Island, unemployed jobless niggas
|
| The foulest niggas, who never smile at niggas
|
| Some hostile violent, chemically imbalanced niggas
|
| See I roll with the wildest niggas
|
| West Indian Island, unemployed jobless niggas
|
| The foulest niggas, who never smile at niggas
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| Some hostile violent chemically imbalanced nigga! |