| «They gon’have to mention me among the best»
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| «You ain’t innovatin, you’re regurgitatin»
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| «They gon’have to mention me among the best»
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| «When I step in the place, you get nervous»
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| You got three dudes on hand that spit it the best
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| You’re small in the game, at best you’re reachin my chest
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| I’m deeper than sex with Tabitha Stevens
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| Usin a 10-inch long dildo and she ejaculate semen
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| I mastered the reason, perfected the answer
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| You’re just not believable, like a Mexican Santa
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| Philly loves me, and I get respect in Atlanta
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| Pumpkinhead puts it down like Thor with a hammer
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| My grammar is Grammy status, I’m thankin the Lord
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| I get to the point like Young Buck’s knife at the Vibe Awards
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| So when I step foot in the arena
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| You break a sweat like Ruben Studdard, eatin buttered Farina
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| So your nervousness is fully understandable
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| You’re facin an animal, that’ll erase your face with a cannonball
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| Tough break, how you makin that duck face
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| when you’re Martha Stewart’s inmate at Camp Cupcake?
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| Yeah, get nervous…
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| Just forget about the small talk nonsense and all of it
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| Niggaz better be ready, I ain’t about to call it quits
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| Though people knew that I was mad innovative
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| I was caught up in a trap in a bad situation
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| But I’m glad niggaz waited cause I gradually graduated
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| Certified and takin rap cats back to basics
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| I knew that I would shine one of these days
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| I’m ready as ever, prepared for the comin of age
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| An unfuck-wit-able flow, though some’ll debate
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| If anybody better tell 'em step in front of the plate
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| And rest assured, I’m bringin the best, the pure product
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| like the number one Columbian dealer of narcotics
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| I should be a household name but y’all caught up
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| in the buzz and the hype; |
| but niggaz love what I write
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| And I does what I like despite, whenever somethin’s said
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| The franchise player with Words and Pumpkinhead
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| Let’s go
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| Yeah, uh-huh, yo. |
| yeah, uh-huh, yo, yo
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| You never will win, bein said off the head or the pen
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| Like a stillborn baby you were dead to begin
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| Rhyme 'til the record ends
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| You can’t make a mixtape with me, featurin a verse that you edited in
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| We set it again; |
| start from the top, my margin’ll stop
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| is when the numbers won’t revolve on the clock
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| I shine outside, and provide light outdoors
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| When I blackout with my rhymes and you white-out yours
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| My mood behavior, the flows and the moves I made up
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| Cater to schools, studied by music majors
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| The rules is straight up to keep you from losin labor
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| For you and usin paper is like euthanasia
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| Just heatin up, every day doper I become
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| Scientists think the Earth is gettin closer to the sun
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| You got Words and you have the rest
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| Don’t mention me among, mention me AS the best
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| You know the truth |