| «This… is Libra. |
| The Librans, are humanitarians
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| They can do just about anything. |
| They’re compatible mates to us.»
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| Release your best lyrics, let me see you stick and stack
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| Throughout the cookie crew, you can’t drop a verse that’s good
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| You ain’t better than Frick and Frack
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| You could stand around and watch the bomb go off
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| Your backpacks down to your buttcrack
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| The sharp needle attack the feeble
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| Have you in total shock, starin at the wrapped up material
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| Like Indian people, lookin like chicks with uneven suntans
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| Walkin off the beach in Rio
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| Women love the vocals, they can’t see me, treat me like Theo
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| Redbones, come spanish, dark-skinned and creole
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| Every summer Libra she’s Le-ohhhhhhh
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| I drop the gift, my urine hit your LeCroix shirt
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| Bounce off your standard Smiths
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| Serena serve you Chester mints
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| You goin in the vocal booth is high risk
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| To record butter soft words on a light disc
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| Bad foul shot shooter you gonna turn back to the team and scream «I MISSED~!»
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| With form like Dwayne Wade, I still put you down
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| With five of your best men (hehehehehe)
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| Yeah! |
| Takin a risk
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| Everybody shoulda warned you carefully about the Temple of Piss
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| The best box to chose when you chessbox
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| I don’t care if you baseball cap, buttoned down suits with dress socks
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| Ten thousand pound throw electric bodyguards
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| Though I roll with a crew, that breast oxes
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| The talk, the vanishing like the soul food
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| Front your powers fresh down, come down
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| I come back and rush down
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| You can move with the Henny a lot and get silly and bring thus down
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| Gain confidence from somewhere and put they only hope and trust down
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| I say go 'head prove to me, you must CLOWN~!
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| Make your first mistake, missin a pop fly
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| Right around your antenna now you got Popeye
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| Lock eye, your girl got cock-eye! |