| Back
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| Caught you lookin’for the same thing
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| It’s a new thing — check out this I bring
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| Uh Oh the roll below the level
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| 'Cause I’m livin’low next to the bass, C’mon
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| Turn up the radio
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| They claim that I’m a criminal
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| By now I wonder how
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| Some people never know
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| The enemy could be their friend, guardian
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| I’m not a hooligan
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| I rock the party and
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| Clear all the madness, I’m not a racist
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| Preach to teach to all
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| 'Cause some they never had this
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| Number one, not born to run
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| About the gun…
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| I wasn’t licensed to have one
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| The minute they see me, fear me
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| I’m the epitome — a public enemy
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| Used, abused without clues
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| I refused to blow a fuse
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| They even had it on the news
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| Don’t believe the hype…
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| Yes
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| Was the start of my last jam
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| So here it is again, another def jam
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| But since I gave you all a little something
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| That we knew you lacked
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| They still consider me a new jack
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| All the critics you can hang’em
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| I’ll hold the rope
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| But they hope to the pope
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| And pray it ain’t dope
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| The follower of Farrakhan
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| Don’t tell me that you understand |
| Until you hear the man
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| The book of the new school rap game
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| Writers treat me like Coltrane, insane
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| Yes to them, but to me I’m a different kind
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| We’re brothers of the same mind, unblind
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| Caught in the middle and
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| Not surrenderin'
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| I don’t rhyme for the sake of of riddlin'
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| Some claim that I’m a smuggler
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| Some say I never heard of 'ya
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| A rap burgler, false media
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| We don’t need it do we?
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| It’s fake that’s what it be to 'ya, dig me?
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| Don’t believe the hype…
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| Don’t believe the hype — its a sequel
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| As an equal, can I get this through to you
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| My 98's boomin’with a trunk of funk
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| All the jealous punks can’t stop the dunk
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| Comin’from the school of hard knocks
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| Some perpetrate, they drink Clorox
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| Attack the black, cause I know they lack exact
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| The cold facts, and still they try to Xerox
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| Leader of the new school, uncool
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| Never played the fool, just made the rules
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| Remember there’s a need to get alarmed
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| Again I said I was a timebomb
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| In the daytime the radio’s scared of me
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| 'Cause I’m mad, plus I’m the enemy
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| They can’t c’mon and play with me in primetime |
| 'Cause I know the time, plus I’m gettin’mine
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| I get on the mix late in the night
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| They know I’m livin’right, so here go the mike, sike
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| Before I let it go, don’t rush my show
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| You try to reach and grab and get elbowed
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| Word to herb, yo if you can’t swing this
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| Just a little bit of the taste of the bass for you
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| As you get up and dance at the LQ
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| When some deny it, defy if I swing bolos
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| Then they clear the lane I go solo
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| The meaning of all of that
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| Some media is the whack
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| You believe it’s true, it blows me through the roof
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| Suckers, liars get me a shovel
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| Some writers I know are damn devils
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| For them I say don’t believe the hype
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| Yo Chuck, they must be on a pipe, right?
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| Their pens and pads I’ll snatch
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| 'Cause I’ve had it
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| I’m not an addict fiendin’for static
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| I’ll see their tape recoreder and grab it No, you can’t have it back silly rabbit
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| I’m going’to my media assassin
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| Harry Allen, I gotta ask him
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| Yo Harry, you’re a writer, are we that type?
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| Don’t believe the hype
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| I got flavor and all those things you know |
| Yeah boy, part two bum rush and show
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| Yo Griff, get the green black red and
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| Gold down countdown to Armageddon
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| -88 you wait the S1Ws will
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| Rock the hard jams — treat it like a seminar
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| Teach the bourgeoise, and rock the boulevard
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| Some sau I’m negative
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| But they’re not positive
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| But what I got to give…
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| The media says this |