| This is a MindCircus Production
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| From the KSA, I bring to you
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| Kamelion, Anas Arabi, Majic, Kaffien, Vizion, Moh Flow, Tim Granite, P.O.E.T
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| The movement part three
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| You suckers!
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| Yo! |
| It’s the mo-ve-me-nt
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| Jeddah city committee
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| We getting gritty, no pity
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| Militia, lock and load, Glock the mode
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| And cock back, block your clock, and hit the road
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| I’m in it to win it but I’m already a winner
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| My people made me the one 'cause I was the beginner
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| I move souls, move units, move messages to generations
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| You don’t wanna know what the damage is, uhh
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| Next up on the mic, The Junxion
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| Anas show 'em how we run things, man (right)
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| Wanted movement so I’m patriotic on the beat
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| Wanted immunity so I’m bionic through the street
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| As we proceed to feed the fiend in the scene
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| Keep the herb from the green, words from the gut and spleen
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| It’s a fight, dream without a type
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| Sleep, it’s a lice nest if you scratch heads with no deep thoughts and texts
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| Life is a mess if you got nothing to rest to
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| Real to pretend, king’s deep, slow ahead |
| Eyes closed, now eject, bye
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| Run J-City, dumb, dumb diddy
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| Edison your entity
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| Majic, tell 'em what’s the dealy
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| The movement’s never been orgasmic, fresher than plastic
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| Like you’re from a casket
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| And if you moving, leave 'em both, scratch it
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| A crazed devil with a box of matches
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| Taking measures drastic
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| 'Cause I’m moving towards my ashes
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| Running with me, getting action
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| Fronting to be, now we’re conscient
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| 'Cause I’m driven just like a magnet
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| Spitting the rounds, drop to the ground
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| First to the pound, and then we bagging
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| 'Cause we keeping this game slow
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| Asking for mo', we give 'em a show
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| Asking for a rise, we give 'em a blow
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| Loving the flame, the fire of the stove
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| Next player up, Kaffien with that criminal style
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| Yo, activate
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| Dis the movement we moving
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| Flow, screws in, so amusing, so confusing
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| Hopping down the block with four inch woks
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| Collecting drops, feeding cops with slugs and shots
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| Call of duty, higher man mobs
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| The figure five with the furious slops
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| The seven eye skies, immortal, not afraid to die |
| Revelation type of lifestyle
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| Buck wild, infamous child
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| A year of the rebirth of Armageddon
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| Right now, who’s next?
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| Vizion!
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| I blazed the booth
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| Raised the truth, roof youths with it (So high)
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| Did they lose you with the fake slamming news you get?
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| Tryna confuse you with it, but you got bigger shoes to fit (Tryin' hard)
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| Or be a war controlled slave when the noose’s lit
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| The movement don’t move with a loose wit, the fruitless
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| Mind games you’re pushing on us it’s useless
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| No excuses for the ruthless that you is
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| Check the way we shoot this, and groove to this blueprint
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| Since we chasing more dough
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| I got my man on the mic, it’s Moh Flow
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| It’s Moh Flow, wanna move, never stop banging
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| Oh no! |
| You seen the news, boy, stop changing
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| It’s like the whole globe full of six built strangers
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| I don’t understand, we don’t speak the same language
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| I don’t really see what’s the reason for this anger
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| I mean, y’all strickened, so am I, so handle
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| What you got in your plate, sitting in your mansion
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| It’s raps y’all hear, I spit 'em with a passion |
| The hunger for mine got me crashing the scene, I’m asking
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| Where Tim Granite at with that panic attack?
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| Qusai came along
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| And ran with Junxion in the marathon
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| Moh Flow passed the baton
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| And now we running the decathlon, the battle song
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| My Anas Arabi soldiers on the horses with no saddles on
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| I got my Majic armor on
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| Check our Vizion, 'cause now you Run or getting batted on
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| Pop Kaffien 'cause y’all ain’t lasting long
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| Up the MindCircus (shhhh) creek
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| And shoulda paddled on
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| Pass to POET
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| I’m sorry if I rattled on
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| Tim Granite’s out like the criminal you ratted on
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| Yo, in my position to bring your ass fulfilment
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| Pen wars with myself
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| None of it was crifted, shifted, metaphored
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| Myself needs encryption, demented dimension
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| Paper extended, care unit, intensive
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| My tongue is offensive
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| Dammit, call it divine intervention
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| Cracker jack’ll crack a jack if our spits are wack
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| Forget affiliation
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| We are one movement on the track |