| Tightly knit, my script is legit
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| I’m force feedin competition, more rebel shit
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| Rhymes on a roll, cold yet bold
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| I did «Posse on Broadway» in cruise control
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| Runnin like a wart, rap’s my sport
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| Of course loss, and then you pick the part
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| But don’t cry and say you wasn’t warned
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| Cause my voice keeps comin like a STORM
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| Bass should it be let go, heck no
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| Want to be hard, cause you failed to be techno
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| Rugged, ripped and rough hittin like «Thriller» (boom)
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| My bass drum is a killer
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| Packed like a musket, tough to test it
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| Your arrested (Yo, was he in a trial?), you guessed it
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| His eyes are big, his crew ran away in the crunch
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| Then I hit 'em with the «Batman» punch
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| Laugh, if you want but don’t approach
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| Cause most that approach get ate up like toast
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| But some do come, you wanna scrap or what?
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| If not stay back, cause I’ll Roll You Up
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| (That's right Mix, roll that sucker)
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| (Kick it over here)
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| I’ll Roll You Up
|
| (Roll 'em up, Roll 'em up Mix)
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| (Kick, kick, kick it over here)
|
| (Kick, kick, kick it over here)
|
| (kick it over here Mix)
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| I’m scannin the court, holdin the fort
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| Runnin your mind through a maze of pure lyrical tort
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| More real estate, keep my posse runnin to the bank
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| It’s hardcore, breakin up armored tanks
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| Not dressed to impress, but dressed for pain
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| No cute sweatsuits, just sweat and chains
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| Step off strapped, I let off caps
|
| Ha, Hitchcock couldn’t write more wicked raps
|
| Rip the Godfather, then you start that braggin
|
| I never jumped on a James Brown bandwagon
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| A malla ralla, makin MC’s holler
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| My rope’s so big, your girl’s callin me a baller
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| Bad is played, so I choose to use mean
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| Diabolical mind, the remorse is unseen
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| Quick to cut on any concert quack
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| Lip-synchin rhymes off a raggedy tracks
|
| He claims to hate me, swears I can’t beat 'em
|
| I drop a new jam, the punks come like I beep 'em
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| Tried to jack, stepped up and got popped
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| Cause I’m takin out scum like «Robocop»
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| Twistin off rhymes in a lyrical knot
|
| The temporary, interuptin in your chain of thought
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| It’s me so give it up, cause the gat is in your gut
|
| Don’t make a move or I’ll Roll You Up, sucker
|
| «Mix-A-Lot» — 4X
|
| I’ll Roll You Up
|
| Yeah, how many players we got in the house?
|
| (*yelling in background*)
|
| How many Playboys we got in the house?
|
| All you players from coast to coast
|
| You know I rock the most
|
| My bank is thick but it’s legal, so I boast
|
| Comin at a brother like a in sync cheap
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| I’m still down to (*banging noise*), if a sucker got beef
|
| Roll him up, cause he’s soft, kinda limp
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| I’m your worst nightmare, a sucker MC’s pimp
|
| Workin 'em hard with my hip hop force
|
| My words so cold they known to freeze up warts
|
| The scope is focused, notice no hocus pocus
|
| Your girl’s a square, but she’ll tell ya I’m bogus
|
| Saw you on the street, your middle finger was flippin
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| And your the victim of a drive-by lyrical whippin
|
| Read my song, lyrics are strong
|
| The critics were wrong, I kind to suckers like pong
|
| Agression the lesson, pain is the ultimatum
|
| Reachin and grabbin, hittin like Jack Tatum
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| They are crushed, turnin suckers to slush
|
| Heavyweight beef for you punks that fuss
|
| Whippin like handball, punishin the face
|
| I’m all up in 'em like Section Eight
|
| Logical rhymes, ahead of the time
|
| Goin for mine, and fight time, still down to grind
|
| Here’s the white chalk, your next to get cut
|
| But cross the white line and I’ll Roll You Up
|
| I’ll Roll You Up …
|
| Bring it on down
|
| (*beat changes*)
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| I got my voice down pact, rock it up like crack
|
| Smacked all the whack, with a loaded pack
|
| Black Cross Courts is the chosen attire
|
| Heavy with the lyrics, all balls are fire
|
| Cause I’m (*scratched* - «Dope, are great"*)
|
| In the Pacific Time Zone, I’m considered the boss
|
| A lyrical nightmare, it’s me in your dreams
|
| Feel the sweat, the smoke, get up and then scream
|
| Loose is the noose, but I’m tightenin soon
|
| My drum’s steady hung, with enormous boom
|
| I stomp all comp, for it’s you I romp
|
| My drum’s kickin harder than paternity stomps
|
| Hit it and with it, the posse’s heavy and stiff
|
| Skirts on the tip, for the player riff
|
| Not a regular rapper, cause I’m knowin what’s up
|
| You attack from the back and I’ll Roll You Up
|
| (*talking*)
|
| I’ll Roll You Up |