| Ha ha, yo, yo
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| My man Keith Murray, is down wit us
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| My nigga Erick Sermon, is down wit us
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| My man Lil' Jamal, is down wit us
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| My Def Squad click, is down wit us
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| The Pack Pistol Posse is down wit us yo
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| My L.O.D. |
| click, is down wit us
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| We’re number one!
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| Ha ha ha, ha ha, yo yo, yo well yo
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| It’s the Red Moolie, yellin for the villain in the movie
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| I’m like Kentucky, I pack a biscuit and a two-piece
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| Ya nod thorough, blows like the tri-borough
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| I die thorough with a metal on my chest sayin Def
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| Check out the rhythm that I cook up
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| You too scared to look up, you’re merkin
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| I Set it Off like La in that big-ass Suburban *errrr*
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| Bumrush your villa then I’m closin all the curtains, LIGHTS OUT
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| Who’s next to get stomped? |
| I smash hardcore from Jerz
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| To the South South Bronx, the bizarre rap non-superstar
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| Of course, my Actions Affirmative like Nas Escobar
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| Flip a quarter, heads or tails you’re gettin slaughtered
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| I blow the S-L boy out of order
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| My mental disorder is pure water
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| I hit your wifey doggystyle in the Land
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| While the CD program’s on 'Whatever Man'
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| My peoples up in Jersey, is down wit us, uhh
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| My peoples locked down, down wit us, uhh
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| My peoples in New York, is down wit us
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| The housing projects, is down wit us
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| My people who be hustlin is down wit us
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| Cause makin funky music is a must
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| I’m number one!
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| Ha haa! |
| Check it check check check here we go huh huh
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| Aiyyo, throw yo' hands up in the motherfuckin air
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| And wave em, until y’all cash flows hit the pavement
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| Fuck the B-X, I roll on fours like G-S
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| Signed truly yours, Funk Doctor Spock, P. S
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| Rumble in the Jungle, I bumped into Fugees
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| On the humble, on the one-deuce, my bundles
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| Be raw diggy, surprise you like you saw titties
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| On that, milk chick, watch me damage your acoustics
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| The Muddy Waters be blowin your tape recorders
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| Pull out the four niggas steppin like they on a Nord (ic)
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| Track, cool out black got no time for scratch
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| You wanna battle, here’s a lyric with a bomb attached *pssst*
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| These your peoples, you better call em back before I beat through
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| His windpipe, with the cordless mic and the cerebral
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| HAHH, look up in the motharfuckin sky, it’s a
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| Widow, pushin a fifteen zero zero
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| With tinted windows, so it’s hard to look through
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| Chickenhead shotgun, pumpin Erykah Badu
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| Don’t snooze, you’ll be like damn is it the shoes?
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| The way I maneuv I could slip a uz in school
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| I been a raw dog since I brought me an eighth
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| And Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down like I’m Puffy and Mase
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| Ha hah, ha ha ha! |
| Ha ha, aiyyo, aiyyo
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| Fox Boogie Brown, is down wit us
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| My nigga Meth-Tical, is down wit us
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| Yo, Thuggish Ruggish Flesh, is down wit us, yo
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| Yo, my homie Richie Rich, is down wit us, yo
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| That nigga LL Cool, is down wit us, yo
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| My dog Warren G, is down wit us
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| We’re number one!
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| Ha hah, ha hah, ya-ha-ha, yo yo
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| Trigger the Gambler, down wit us, yo
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| My peeps West coast, is down wit us, yo
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| My peeps who pack toast, is down wit us yo
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| Atlanta, G-A, is down wit us yo
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| My peeps in Virginia, is down wit us yo
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| North Carolina, is down wit us yo
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| My peeps in D.C., is down wit us yo
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| My peeps in… |