| We go back and forth, sending this out to my people up north
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| Tell 'em if you ain’t from New York you’re soft
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| Box or throw rocks, fish or cut bait
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| Cause I fight great, but wait
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| Here’s the hottest joint on lockdown
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| Ready for release what they call a masterpiece
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| Covers are blown, known for keeping shit lethal
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| Cause now I’m like water in the desert for you thirsty people
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| What’s the fixation with all this artillery?
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| Now you catch a look, saying «Who are you to question me?»
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| Giving sighs from enemy lines taking care of my business
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| Is how you found out Wayne’s World was never his
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| See my pend holds strong for all my cookies in mink
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| We call all types of bitches running out of ink
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| Later for ticky mind, avoid like suama
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| But I don’t see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind
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| You know it’s my thing, get your bell rang
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| By the Meccafied slang, the jack of all trades
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| Couldn’t even gang bang, and niggas can’t hang
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| With so many styles, you’d swear the shit was out of Wu-Tang
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| But the samurai, CL Smooth I
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| Be slicing, dicing you down when the mic is around
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| I rebound like Oakley when you provoke me
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| This is the Chocolate Thai, be careful how you toke me
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| I razzle dazzle your fragile ass until you pay homage
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| To the man I plan is holding all the knowledge
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| In five minutes of funk off my tounge, read the label shown
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| Is it Pete Rock or Oliver Stone?
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| Still the same, they remember my name
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| Kind of reminds me of when Rocket Ismail played for Notre Dame
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| Invincibility with no vulnerability
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| Selling more than gold with the killers on my payroll
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| You’d better watch your step, known for the rep
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| Of being real but can’t accept jealous brothers and others
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| Who can’t relax with pep, and if it was the playoffs
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| Your ass would get swept and kept on stash
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| The Tango &Cash competitors bow
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| Cause I would think we all know who The Don is by now
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| Making loot at the pace of a horse race
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| Now once again my friend, the great paperchase
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| Here’s a taste of life in the fast lane
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| Now house full of chicks, he’s stripping off the Don P
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| With the profound sound, I ride swoops like a hawk
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| And can only bring the essence of New York
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| It’s the Vernonville daddy, can you comprehend?
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| How some real live niggas set a new trend
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| Of being so blasted, smoothest prophets to the brain cell
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| While I bid you all a farewell |