| Yeah, in this corner
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| We have the undisputed champs in hip-hop
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| Soul Position; |
| RJD2, on the beats
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| Blueprint on the rhymes, versus
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| Everything that sucks about music in the opposite corner
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| We’ll see what’s up
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| Yea, uh-huh
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| See Print pollyin, 3-card Molly’in
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| Ridin in an old car cross the Metropolitan
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| Probably in a hot broad’s face straight hollerin
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| Every time he make a move y’all wanna follow him
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| Haters say they wanna do bodily harm to him
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| Players hold they hoes close cause they all swarm to him
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| That’s the norm for him, they keepin it warm for him
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| Hit that, sit back then dip in the morning when
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| Just bought a little crib, shit he ain’t goin nowhere
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| Columbus or Bust 'til he die, he enjoyin it here
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| All his boys is here, all the toys in fear
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| Walk into the bar and get Cheers like Norm was there
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| You take a L cause you corny like Cliffy Clavin
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| Can’t seem to keep your misses from misbehavin
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| You be keepin them waitin, he be keepin them naked
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| People been debatin about who they think Print been datin
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| Stay out his territory, wait 'til he tells a story
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| Better that you only know the master of ceremony
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| Phony students movin way too slow for class
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| Get left back a level until they make grades that pass
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| Take off your white tee, wave it, make it a flag
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| Failure is likely, it breaks it and saves your ass
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| No matter what the haters say, he’s still gettin major ass
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| Take 'em to the pad, get 'em naked and smash
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| In the sack your dame loud like Dame Dash
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| To top it off dawg she told her out insane ass
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| My dame clash but she still give me the brain fast
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| She her old style, I got her on the straight path
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| Plus my song’s strong, I put it on upon
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| Who talk big willy but his bank account’s overdrawn
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| Another boring song going on and on
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| Your thoughts ain’t worth the cheap paper you wrote 'em on
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| Hold on…
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| Catch your breath while I go on with the song
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| I’m at home on any block, the blacktop’s my backdrop
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| Find a wireless connect, pull out the laptop
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| To broadcast live to the world outside
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| Songs that right the wrongs and smash the lies
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| Y’all can’t match the vibe my rap provides
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| I uphold the codes y’all bastardize
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| The kind of guys that I despise
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| You lost in the sauce with my thoughts to God
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| Shake you, wake you, take you for a ride
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| Slide you off side for in the wrong side
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| Then pickin the wrong time for spittin the whole nine
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| Do an about face and scurry about place
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| Hurry inside home, a flurry upside dome
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| There’s a reason you’re not known
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| Plus, many games gettin played in this inner city maze
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| Turn the other cheek and still catch a left to the face
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| Put to rest, what a waste, shoulda left or put your best foot forward faster
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| Now meet your master…
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| Deeper — than the stare of a man that lost it all
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| Longer — than the out-stretched arms of the law
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| Wider — than the eyes of a newborn child
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| We’re committed, to go the extra mile
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| Just like we expected
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| Another victory for the defending champion
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| The undisputed champ, Soul Position
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| Who’s next? |
| You have no idea
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| They better bring it
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| Them boys ain’t playin
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| Not at all… |