| In the grimey hostile hand-to-mouth environment
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| Every day and every night especially insightful
|
| So I act different, plans are written with transition
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| Flopped your occupation, cus Badbonez is my ambition
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| Keep your distance from me, at least ten feet
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| When MCs bragging that their pens bleed, please don’t tempt me
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| Your performance is over like Tommy Cooper’s
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| Dying live on stage, no trace of comedy bloopers
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| Blocks of Buddha, chock up blunt wraps, hash muffins
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| Crack buds are freshest, then I commence the scab plucking
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| And these quitters won’t stop playing roles of self-fellatio
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| And bit their own cocks, bottom-feeders of this modern age pyramid
|
| Commonest bitch, with no authority to spit
|
| In the honoured face of the ancient Sphinx
|
| You can find me, every day, every night, every where
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| Any where, whatever the weather, yeah
|
| So try to find me, the non-bionic symbolic bubonic
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| Plague of chimpanzee rage demonic psychotic
|
| Ebonics, college attenders lyrical economics
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| Head nodding, neurotic, harmonic, Hypnodic
|
| Keep your distance from me at least ten feet
|
| When MCs bragging that their pens bleed, please don’t tempt me
|
| I’ll urinate in your lemonade
|
| They let me out the cage onto stage
|
| Bolting electro-magnetic waves
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| Endless chains of unseen forces
|
| Better take your safety wear to run these gauntlets
|
| Shut the fuck, please cork it
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| Can’t stand to see your lips pucker
|
| Rumbling Rush Hour with Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker
|
| Drink the brew of these roots and hear the spirits talk to you
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| About all the moves fulfilling what you ought to do
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| Sink the brew, and sing the blues
|
| Sprinkle something wicked in the zoot
|
| While biting my nails from Fingerfood |