| Blaze one for the Brooklyn crew what
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| Blaze one for the Cincinnati crew, yes
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| And for the whole world, and for the whole world
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| Yo Hi-Tek they still sleepin
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| As a right we still peakin
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| They still weakin, we adventurous thrill-seekin
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| We will begin, new ways of freakin it It’s the dawn of the MC who think before he spit
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| On Mission, we intercept your transmission
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| Bringin exactly what the fans missin
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| You, bare witness to, the transition like
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| GIVE ME THAT MICROPHONE, man listen
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| Yo, I literally
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| Obliterate MC’s who rhymin pitifully
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| Let’s get it straight like degrees of longitude and latitude
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| Adjust your position like your attitude
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| Even cats frontin had to move
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| Now let’s begin, while you testin these better men
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| You get fucked up like it’s your first Friday as freshman
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| Letter man on the varsity team, I pipe dream
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| Make they cream freeze like reindeer caught up in high beams
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| Yo it seems that they sedative like open wounds and I’m lyrically salty
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| All your shit is faulty, watch me turn jams into revolutionary parties
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| Stoppin your heart piece, while we write soliloquies wit Sharpies
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| We stay in the air like aerosol to carry y’all
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| Old decrepit MC’s like Geritol
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| We men in the mirror y’all, your career is like a metaphor for suffering
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| When we rush in, beat these niggas like percussion
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| You ain’t touchin nuttin
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| I give instructions and move on your weak production
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| Drop that African king shit and the royal flushing
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| Respect the queen, from straight from BK
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| Stick like girls’legs when they run the Penn Relay
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| Talib Kweli it’s the Reflection Hi-Tek
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| When we livin this shit Out of the 7−18 we meet the 51−3
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| I blast through your illsuions
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| Shatterin your shadow as I snatch the light from you
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| When I want to, confusion is the conclusion you come to That’s the best you could come up wit
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| When your brain pattern is scattered and that’s why you dropped that dumb shit
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| Click first when we hit next when I’m dispersing
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| Cursing me like ham cuz I’m original when you’re like the King James version
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| You need a surgeon to put you back together
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| When your parts is missin like aquarian gospels
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| We can get more hostile without PEACE
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| Believe we balance positivity wit negative
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| Legal and illegal cuz it’s relative
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| If the law prevent me from being a man, then what’s the deal?
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| In the Hour of Chaos, my microphone’s my Black Steel
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| I grip it wit that sure shot feel
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| Drivin through your mind, Hi-Tek be on the wheels
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| We ride up on your heels, talkin back now
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| You pop more junk than a? |
| thane or bird?
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| Fallin flat on your face, you got caught trippin off your words
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| Explain that? |
| simunicy?
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| You oxy-moron, pimpled faced dummy goin through puberty
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| Flippin late night through cable channels lookin for nudity
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| You’re junior-high, what could you do to me
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| Nuttin is new to me but I’m still learnin, what
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| Hip-hop is in our hearts and we On Mission from the start
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| To leave our mark up on this rock
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| Too many people is just livin *repeat*
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| Listen listen, huh man listen
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| We intercept the transmission
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| Bringin exactly what you fans missin
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| Hi-Tek *echoes*
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| Uh uh, Talib Kweli yo Exactly what it’s supposed to be yo
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| None of y’all niggas is close to me, yo Step back before you get your head cracked
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| Yo steppin in through set back, I never sweat that
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| Aiyyo my man C Smith is jet-black
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| That’s okay though, aiyyo
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| I build these niggas up and then I smash em to the ground like Play-Dough
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| And then I lay low |