| The only way I wouldn’t spit rhymes is if I had no mouth
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| Steppin to me is dangerous, like Big Daddy Kane
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| walkin through white wall projects with his gold out
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| Oh wow, so now your thug crew wanna back down?
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| Y’all travel in new circus, y’all fools is ass clowns
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| I confront beef, don’t get smacked down
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| Just go that-a-way, downstairs and stand down
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| I’m a known threat, yeah, and I’m fly like Boba Fett
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| Been rhymin since kung-fu on channel 5 and Robotech
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| And I love money, and women who buy me liquor
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| So if you neither of those then slide like Chinese slippers
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| My crew is the Ac', and we’re back, with a vengeance
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| Niggaz is pussy on they period, tryin to stop my sentence
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| But you can’t, and I’ma still go out on tour
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| You’re just mad cause your spine is yellow like Sean Paul
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| I just wanna rhyme!
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| I just wanna rhyme!
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| I just wanna rhyme!
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| I just wanna rhyme!
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| I can’t stop, it’s like I’m on a roll now
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| You’re not cool so like an anorexic bitch, you get no pounds
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| Step to the left, while I walk right past ya
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| I make dope songs, it’s hard to match my DNA factor |
| A chubby rapper, a couple of extra pounds around the waist
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| So much breath control, I could spit a whole album in outer space
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| with no oxygen, right now I’m claimin what’s mine
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| The crown of the underground so whatever y’all sayin is fine
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| Y’all lyin, you and me can never be equal, I spit from the heart
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| We don’t believe you, you need more people, start a million man march!
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| I’m feelin parched, somebody pass me a Gatorade
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| And there can only be one of me, like the ace of spades
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| I made the grade, and then I hopped, over the fence
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| You upset, cause I put one in your wife’s mouth like 50 Cent
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| I’m sorry, but when I’m tense I gotta let it go and vent
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| And her mouth was right there with a sign that said «open for rent»
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| I love rhymin, it’s more than a job it’s a passion
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| More than plaques, advances or sponsored fashion
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| It’s a culture, not to be toyed with so the boy spit
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| rhymes that make your mind go 'Eww' like the smell of boiled shit
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| See first, I did it for the enjoyment
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| But now I won’t front, I do it for the love in employment |
| See what my point is, is that you net nerds are annoying
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| Like hip-hop, revolves around you and the Pamper you’re soilin
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| And the thugs on the street, frontin like what I spit is weak
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| Cause you and your crew wantin to battle me, and all got beat
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| Rule one, when you battle me, you’re gonna get son’d
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| Especially when you say you’re gonna shoot me and don’t have a gun
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| Rule two, when you start singin like Ja Rule
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| Battle’s over, and you’re gettin beaten down with a bar stool
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| Numero three, when you rhyme about Bentleys and Humvees
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| But the only thing you pushin is a old pair of Oakleys!
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| «You gotta be out of your FUCKIN mind!» |
| — KRS-One
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| «All I need is one mic, one beat, one stage» — Nas
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| «I'ma rep, to the death of it!» |
| — Nas
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| «I just wanna innovate, and stimulate minds» — Common
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| «What I stand for speaks for itself!» |
| — Nas |