| I put it down cuz y’all be puttin too much weight on it Twice as nice on thin ice, create the figure eight on it Puttin words together like a verbal 'Recta-set
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| Inject the set of def lyrics into the vein
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| I know you hated that you received the mutated strain
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| Wit no immunity, to walk the underground community
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| Ingenuity the key difference 'tween you and me
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| (Yo who is he?) The question asked by cats who know class of Dope-ass track collab let you know just what you have
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| In your presence, relaxin your skull like Herbal Essence
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| This water’s full of dull-ass rappers who need flouresecnts
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| Like the undecidable low-rider on golden thangs
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| I’m a fighter and a writer whose eyes on controllin thangs
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| Like a Aussie enthusiast, got radio control
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| Me and Asia amaze y’all wit all this soul
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| Pourin out of every hole that it can
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| I stand respected, poeticizing all of the experince I’ve collected
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| To all of y’all who ever thought that you wrecked it Use the scientific method and make sure that you jack because
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| () (Planet Asia) 4x
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| «All of these beats and these rhymes attached
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| Mean that real niggas on the mic bringin it back"(Freddie Foxx)
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| (Bringin it back)
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| (Planet Asia)
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| Yo I puff a long stick, hook up the pen for insight flame
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| That’s when I, invite your brain to the wind pipes of pain
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| Identify, from the streets stealin soft cats, just wish they possums
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| No need for actin tough cuz the government got satellites
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| That could leave all my people snuff, wit the physical zap
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| Over digital DAT’s, I trap cats wit twenty-four tracks of pro-Black
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| Most of these rap acts, skills they have bar-e-ly
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| One-hitter quitters shit, that glitter shit is momentarily
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| My raps is bomb that might leave MC’s on shook
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| So bomb I can’t even travel on planes wit my composition book
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| I cause natural disasters when I fold you in a sentence
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| My smart bombs leave your soldiers blown in the trenches
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| And regret this for the war between the devil and flesh
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| And hungry niggas in the ghetto, they don’t settle for less
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| My attitude is uncompatible, pro-Black radical
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| Hold ya thoughts before you talk, we even walk mathematical, what
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| We gives a fuck but never rehearse a curse
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| Snatchin you weak MC’s purses wit these strong-asss
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| (Planet Asia)
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| It’s like that y’all, we focusin on cleanin the Sticks
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| (School Yard!) The type of niggas who be feindin for bricks
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| And take it serious, clear as a fiber optical incision
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| Cut your rap life short, now you need to make a decision
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| (Planet Asia)
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| Street talk venomous spit, dynamic duos stayin true though
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| Shittin on niggas’s like feces from out your cool-o
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| You know, nickel and dime, the 2−0-9's finest rhymers
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| Go ahead and rewind us cuz you’ll never find what’s behind us With your blinders on, we grind long hours and take showers
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| Toesh, in the West we invest in rhyme powers
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| And climb towers tall enough skyscrape, so why fake
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| (Planet Asia)
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| Phony MC’s we make migrate
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| Bologna MC’s just hit the side gate for exit
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| Wit all these beats and rhymes attached
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| Y’all cowards know we on some next shit, now…
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| (We bringin it back) |