| Immortal stats, yo, we got invisible clean
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| Advanced rhyme scene out of lou beans
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| The unseen, we keep it clean like a diamond ring
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| Or dirty like a one night fling
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| But I bet you can’t catch my swing
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| We roll numbers, stack styles every time we do our thing
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| Hitting like some line backers
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| Rude rhyme shacklers, you fuck with us, you end up on the black list
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| You rushed by tacklers, yeah, that’s a fat kiss of death
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| Like we on the street scene
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| You and your whole crew intrigued, 'cause you ain’t got no tricks up your sleeve
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| Only bust rhyme function to a point to where y’all can’t even breathe
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| So, make way for the unseen
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| Yo, Madlib
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| Change the beat up, so I can turn these peoples
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| Quasimoto got so much soul, niggas be like, «Yo!»
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| Quasimoto got so much soul, niggas always be like, «Yo!»
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| I got soul like Fred Wesley
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| You know, it’s Lord Quas up in the spot hitting freshly
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| Who blow ya head while I’m keeping my cool?
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| Madlib controlling tracks, taking y’all back to school
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| We got y’all up on the bubblegum
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| Smack you like I’m Troublesome
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| Turn your speakers up, take a puff and you’ll see exactly what I mean
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| Loud and clear be the unseen
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| Quasimoto got so much soul, niggas always be like, «Yo!»
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| Quasimoto got so much soul, niggas always be like, «Yo!»
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| Soul
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| (Some of that soul)
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| Soul
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| (Go over there)
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| (Quasimoto)
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| Soul
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| Soul
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| Soul
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| Soul
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| Soul |