| no jive we be survivin'
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| singin’praises to jah
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| every time we throw down and every time we puff La Haaaaa!!! |
| well you can roll my way
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| on the chocolate supa highway!!!
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| Late last year
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| some of ya mighta had fear, that the Spearhead crew
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| would never be back through your way, no way
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| we naw go out like that, becaouse we livin’for the riddim
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| and the funk is always fat so we bring fat beats like a gift for Xmas
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| I’ll make you testify just like an O. J Simpson witness
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| our sound is so alarming like killer bees people all be swarming
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| so like the price is right come on down, make a little wish
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| but excuse me while I light my spliff and make some noise
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| if you think the herbs a gift. |
| Hoooo!
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| Check it I’m descending back into this record
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| the heavy breathing funky rhyme paramedic
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| shootin’funky venom from my sharp teeth injectors
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| not vex ya but yes to resurrect ya
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| 'cause I can’t stand the pain outside my window
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| why ya think so many smokin’indo blunts
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| sippin’gin and juice for confidence
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| blowin’more la than Jackie Chan be doin’stunts
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| the Buddah elevates the stress off the chest
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| but could never elevate boot off the ghetto necks
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| flex like flash when they try to pull me under
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| but like the lightnin’I’ll be there before the thunder
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| Yes I remember the time in Oklahoma
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| you tried to blame an Arab
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| but the whitey was the bomber
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| you be jumpin’to conclusions
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| I think you spent your whole life
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| watchin’cable in seclusion
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| illusions 'bout what’s outside your door
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| one nigga two nigga three nigga four
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| robbing every house and every liquor store
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| run for your life we marchin’one million more
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| Plowing the fields like some natty dread farmers
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| you can roll your own in September from our harvest
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| big up yourself… when life comes gets the hardest
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| Spearheads comin’straight from the cartridge |