| From the backstreets of Philly to the world abroad
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| I know you heard the call of the hardest bars
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| Spit raw, split jaws over pitfalls, get gone, it’s Lost
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| Young grimy most likely to dry heave on anyone who despise me
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| That’s why Reef keep these mics right beside me
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| Cauze otherwise motherfuckers die
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| Other guys try to rhyme, none come close
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| I smoke your mind then I focus mine, leave you holding my balls
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| My dick is like a shark’s fin
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| Shit ripped apart when I start stomping
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| Like this was a mosh pit I am top dog
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| You are not shit, you know who get this locked bitch
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| Glock spit, leave you in the hospice
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| Shot and shocked and scarred
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| I told them brothers run up, bodyslam like Hogan brother
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| Who let’s go nigga, it’s no holds barred
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| Michael Vicking these dudes, you move, you lose
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| I swear I’m there if you prepare for none, spared the the whole nine yards
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| And if that’s not enough my rap game is tough
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| And I ain’t twenty-one yet, are you having fun yet?
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| Oh my God
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| Gun clap, I come at, niggas where your blunts at?
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| Nigga pass me that, puff that, don’t make me raise my voice
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| And get my boys to chicka chicka blow
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| Word on the street was you’d eat Reef
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| Fuck, what you putting in your reefer?
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| You’s a dreamer, please get your head out the clouds
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| I’m too raw for you, too hardcore
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| The Lord himself will strike you
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| For testing his disciple, bitch bow down
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| On one knee, palms raised to the Heavens
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| I was raised to raise weapons and blaze in your direction
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| So how you like me now? |
| Kool Moe Dee shit
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| You know me kid, too? |
| seeming
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| Soap in sock and beating you like homie the clown
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| Bobo or Krusty, your flow’s rusty
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| The boy is husky, young and high-strung
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| And when I bug a track slow down
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| As I ram I knock you off any block you stand on
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| If you think you can handle the Cauze you damn wrong
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| You’re about as improtant to the game as Keith Van Horn
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| On and I’m hands on all around the world it’s the same song
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| Trying to get my name strong
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| Bounce niggas back and forth like ping pong
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| Forrest Gumping these niggas, gun dumping on a nigga
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| Now you running like a lizard, I slither right across your face
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| I ate this kid like a baby back rib
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| When I make em flip like gymnastics
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| I be on the bad shit when I’m smashing you niggas
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| Want action? |
| Give me a call
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| If you really that hard, if you really that raw
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| Then hand me a bra with these hands and these claws
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| When your upping comes I’m the nigga you’ll get nothing from
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| Number one, uno, dos, and tres
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| Smoke a eight of grape and when the fumes escape
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| Then doomed your fate, niggas ain’t ready man
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| Who debating the way I demonstrate?
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| How I penetrate mics till they menstruate
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| Break your bones so they won’t bend straight, fuck it
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| Beat you with your crutches, puff dutches
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| Twist more trees than tornadoes, leave you red as tomatoes
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| Or tomahtoes, my motto is that tomorrow is near
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| I’m here in the now, you hearing the sound
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| Of a million demons screaming, Reef bitch it’s no secret
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| Who’s the kingpin with these ink pens
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| What you niggas thinking? |
| Now the beat’s sinking |