| 12 inches from Hell’s kitchen
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| Broke the spell to research for scientific
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| 9/11 plot, my medicine’s pot, the young shaman
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| Next level rebel with knowledge nostalgic
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| I’m the OG that the young’uns never diss
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| Cause no matter what, you gotta respect the cleverness
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| Above 6, where my level is
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| My level benevolent styles inherited
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| The lord of all worlds can show you where the devil is
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| Man of the craft still living off his heritage
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| 720 rhymes that come a month
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| Under the steady, gotta be the most thoroughest
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| We pin strolls and graffiti
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| 12 jewels to feed the needy
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| You act, nigga, sign a peace treaty
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| We bleed the greedy so I keep my beats mean
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| Meditate and let my dome roam free
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| The untouchables, bucket slow
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| That’s word to my brother Ben Buford in the caddy sitting comfortable
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| And what I’m doing is nothing new
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| Hard body frequencies, beats feeling like somebody’s punching you
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| Who the fuck is you to try and chest
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| Dodge the best,? |
| knowledge in the game and fly us out the west
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| I wanna ride in your brain cashing traveler’s checks
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| My clientele’s a mess, wide cell specs
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| My up north niggas be like blood hella fresh
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| With no support of a major but relevant nigga
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| We selling this dope, forever and yo
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| You rappers is hoes, letting these crackers do whatever with you
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| Freedom enforcer, whatever I’m a law student
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| And the instrumental is getting? |
| soft confusion
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| I’m on my own shit, could give a fuck what y’all doin' |