| Ah, how many brothers been charged?
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| Go through wires and set fires in my garage
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| Sabotage, I’m coming to you fools in camafloughe
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| Gods must be crazy, stole yo’style from the eighties
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| Lookin’at that show lady, why she look like Brady?
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| Shady business, wanna stop and look at my profile
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| People like me be catching girls with Kangol hats on Argyl
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| Styles, skills, I get ill everytime I rhyme
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| Quantum leaps stole my jeep, gonna catch that fool in time
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| 'Cause I’m Skeeter, Mr. Nine Milimeeter, with bad aim
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| Fame, Now I’m gonna live forever, never say die
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| Bronze eyed and black guy with a black eye, fat lip, wanna set trip
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| Dang y’all, look at my watch, I gotta shake this spot
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| So pow, look at this brother with stilts
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| Thinkin’his name was Skeeter, Mr. Nine Millimeeter
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| What the? |
| holy cow
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| A brother hung a couple of sings from these trees
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| The day that I became an MC
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| I’m your idol like Micheal, so won’t you beat it
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| I’m deader like Shredder, I joined the Foot now I can’t be defeated
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| Mis-treated MC’s like it was the eighties
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| My style is tigher than a wet lycra on a two hundred and fifty pound lady
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| Maybe, maybe not
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| Maybe you should check that
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| Pop this in yo’tape deck, play me in yo’cassette
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| On Channel 7 News At 11 watch these fools get hurt
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| Have you more confused than a Christian reading a bible in a Muslim church
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| Come down to earth, now ask yourself is worth
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| Losing your title in a rap recitle?
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| I’ve been vital since my birth
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| MC’s get vaided 'cause I’m over-rated
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| And if you laughed it, you ran
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| But when I blast it, you lucky you made it
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| I’m the most hated MC, just like the OB
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| You’ll be outy like last year, cookin’like Gary Coleman
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| 'Cause no man, no children or woman can get with the Super
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| I got the West Coast sewn up and I load up your spot trooper
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| And ain’t no to be continuied
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| When I get in you get looser
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| Hope that you get used to losing
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| So shut up and start thinking
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| Before I leave you danglin’from my mic cords
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| And you hear me swingin'
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| Put yo’gun away, Superman don’t run away
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| See I got x-ray, I can spot you like OJ on the freeway
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| But anyway, we can do this all today
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| 'Cause I embarass more people on national telivision than Richard Baye
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| Today’s topic: MC’s who set-up for beat downs
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| Sit down and tell me about your last lyrical melt-down
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| You come to battle you get beat like drums
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| And I’m a put you on the bus and send you back to where you came from
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| And I don’t care if you don’t like me now
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| You go home and tell your friends I’m the mighty one
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| AKA Skeeter, Mr. Nine Milimeeter, with bad aim
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| Also known as Skee-Lo, but you can call me Supreman
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| Super, Superman
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| You know they call me Superman |