| Who keeps it methods unorthodox, who caught the props
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| Who’s styles are shit, who’s gonna rock?
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| On to the break of dawn, you wanna battle, pay the price
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| I’m mathematically precise, smooth and plus nice
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| With a flow that’s like a mailman or letter carrier
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| Rob-O brings the ghetto area
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| Funk flavor through your neighborhood, state, town, or borough
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| Straight down, I don’t fake I’m quite thorough
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| Not your average rapper (Listen)
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| Cause in a sec I write some shit to blast your wack ass to Mecca
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| See Rob’s the most Mecca
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| To grab the microphone and yes y’all it
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| To school these dreds and stress these bald heads
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| That INI’s in the house (You don’t stop)
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| With Grap Luva, Marco Polo, Ras you don’t stop
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| We let the funk slide and let God be our guide
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| Flowing from the Vernon worldwide
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| It’s the funk God, taking you worldwide, so bust it
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| Flowing over beats cause it’s a must, kid
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| That I proceed to fix the hardcore in the mix
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| Check one two with the flow that fits
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| I make the hits that soar, I put the wreck in the raw
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| '94 in your local record store
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| It’s Pete Rock and CL, the Main Ingredient
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| Now leave your wack style home, cause you won’t be needing it
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| I grab the mic and get wreck for real
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| You hear me on the wax, kid, you see me on the steel
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| Can you feel the funk as I inject it?
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| Then God protect it, hold the mic, see I select it
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| To keep it crazy versatile
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| But still underground, packs the four pound cause it’s wild
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| In this place you’ll find it hard to hide
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| Soul Brother and I’m going worldwide
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| Now who’s the greatest? |
| Few debate this, you’re still figuring?
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| Well perish the thought, there’s none bigger in
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| This act son, Mecca is all I attract
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| You’re wack, son, yeah your talent’s a fraction
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| While I’m nice, as Christ, is to religion
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| So envision a messiah on a mission, the competition
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| I’ll stop your wishing point blank cause you lost it
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| Your joint sank, your soft style’s exhausted
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| And now it’s mandatory, you stand before me amazed and awed
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| Giving praise, yeah to God
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| Rob cipher’s born, most Mecca supreme
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| A fly MC with the self-esteem
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| You keep it wholesome and still I relax a bit
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| I played your shit out, now get out, cause my wig out has to hit
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| Steadily encouraging head bops while you’re scurrying to get props
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| I’m worldwide
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| Yo, check out the rhyme buster, pulling niggas through the wringer
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| I’m not a singer, as I conduct with one finger
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| It’s the orchestrater, mutilator, master funktator
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| I’ve got mad flow from here to Asia
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| Cause I’ll amaze ya with the skills that I possess
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| Not categorized with all the rest
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| So I suggest if you’re in the way step aside
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| Cause Pete Rock is coming worldwide |