| Let’s get this lyrical murdering under way
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| Put these niggas way under, no delay andale
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| Make these niggas lay under
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| Dirt, the undertaker’s taking over
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| No wonder they getting ate by the eighth wonder
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| What you saying sorry like apologies
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| My poisonous bars got toxicologists
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| Analyzing my anthologies
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| Can’t harm me, why pop at me
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| It’s like I got hereditary sensory autonomic neuropathy
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| Why box with me, harder to hit than a lottery
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| Why bother me, kill cats like curiosity
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| We enter the place and niggas shake like they naked strippers
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| They hate these niggas because we make figures like a pottery
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| Y’all upset me like a nun who’s bad
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| I’m deadly with my one-two jab
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| I can punch through, gun proof glass
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| Kill shit when I wreck, Conrad Murry
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| I’m responsible for this mics death
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| Allow me to put this in perspective, check it
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| That was Bar Exam One, allow me to quote from the second
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| Nigga there gotta know, nobody as hot as me
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| Got a dragon’s heart, boy I’m so Sean Connery
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| The four-five pop’ll give your whole squad lobotomy
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| My snub nose in the air and the chrome shotty gotta be conceited
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| Bring life to rhymes I’m creating
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| Bust hard on a track before it stop ovulating
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| You say you sick come see me, the rhyme doctor’s waiting
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| My occupation is to off my patients
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| It’s not augmentations when I put something in your chest
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| And yep, tools fucking you up like a botched operation
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| I let them slugs go free, my Glocks not enslaving
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| My bullets nigga, pull the trigga from my tool and thin ya
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| Niggas hear my Glocks proclamation, bullet emancipation
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| Every hot shot’s a statement
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| Shoe-gang, they loot for they loot
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| Quick gunners you ain’t got a shot when they shoot
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| To the grave I’m a walk around with the trey deuce
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| Die with my arms out like I’m trying to be Jesus
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| I’m gigantic and quite manic and accurate when ever I blam it
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| That’s the reason these niggas panic
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| Get it right, I’m disgusting around mics
|
| Like Yahtzee this game is nothing without Dice
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| No matter how many thoughts I leak on cheap (?) tapes
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| I can never fully drain my massive think tank
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| Play me the best, I bet I’ll eat what he can’t
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| Even he’ll have to mark my pictures my speech paint
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| We mobsters, rocking rocks and goat
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| Nine tick toking, watches, cocking rides and fighting (?)
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| Popping optics, squashing squash with problem
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| Y’all can’t stop these cobsters, that’s preposterous
|
| I’m a spot light villain
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| Diamond heist I’m shine stealing
|
| I must be Christ-like cause your wife she like kneeling
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| If looks could kill I got you in my sniper sight
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| I’m ice thrilling like my ice grills in
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| Erase you like ancient Mayans
|
| Escape from an insane asylum
|
| I’ll make any atheist and satanist praise a tyrant
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| I’m scraping the sky be height a giant that’s named Goliath
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| When I stomp the continent brakes creating islands
|
| In honor of Obama’s inauguration I’m enslaving Republicans
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| I stuff em in concentration
|
| Camps I’m Osama and I’m a racist
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| I hate the human race so I’m wasting the population
|
| I’m an ape and I’m crazy as dominatrix and Dahmer raping his momma to spawn an
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| abomination
|
| Wait, give me the safe’s combination
|
| I’m Tyra Banks brother Bobby
|
| I rob banks with the face of Ronald Reagan
|
| Y’all bitches should call Nickel the Don Bishop
|
| The poet, a mixture of Don Go and some John Grisham
|
| The flow will have you rewinding four-five times
|
| That landmine rhyme written with porcupine lines
|
| Step up here with the horseshoe
|
| COB gang we them folks who will
|
| Bend your gun barrel to a horseshoe
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| Only fuck with monsters, we the true monsters
|
| I pop up on you like you said Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice
|
| I can’t even see the both
|
| I can fit in Stevie’s shoe
|
| I’m sick, I’ve got that Desert Eagle flu
|
| I’m rich, little nigga we don’t need the set, Teflon
|
| The doctor tried to take blood the needle bent, ask mom
|
| Fifty percent of you niggas is punk bitches
|
| I fuck with real niggas
|
| Real niggas that want weight but don’t want fitness
|
| Vision a horseshoe is all I could see, shit
|
| Me and Crooked I done let the dogs off their leashes
|
| Just let it ride
|
| Just let that shit set in
|
| Let it resonate in your brain, fruit |