| Suddenly I hear a banging sound
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| I can hear the bass playing much too softly turn up the volume
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| Let me start with the evidence and kill the allegations
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| Its low treble high bass my kill for calibration
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| Syncing up perfect to the rhythm of my own kick
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| Driven by my own tone alone I make the poem fit
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| And I ain’t known for taking no shit
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| I’m known for hi-fi and putting it on down the low bits
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| It’s more hits, more green in scenery, they (turn up the volume)
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| It’s man vs machinery
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| I am now to the future what the scene’ll be
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| The decks’ll probably wobble but they never fall easily
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| I rap repeatedly into a (?)
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| So we pouring out these bottles and there’s more to recruit (I can hear the)
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| Voices in my head, telling me, Ev, you have just beasted
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| So why don’t we respect the game and just, recess
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| I’m like fuck that, get the loot, save the queen
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| We got another fucking kill screen to reset
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| I slap the shit out of you with an aphorism
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| Attack the rhythm
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| More than a mac I’m a menace, shatter your Izm
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| I arrive, like I traveled in mach 5
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| And never caught a stop sign
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| And, disappear like a mad magician
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| On a savage mission
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| Chronic and Bali shag I’m twistin
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| Got a nigga feeling past the buildin, I’m so high
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| Fully loaded like a Glock 9 the minute they (Turn up the volume)
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| That’s when I start to jot rhymes, And lock lines
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| I’m slick as an ox to the jugular
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| A prophet it’s just not for the fuck of it uh uh
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| It’s the mafia, suck a dick
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| Guns bigger than Theophilus London’s Lips (I can hear the)
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| Cops coming, the spot jumping I’m getting ghost
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| From a block of young’ns with ox cutters hid in they coat
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| Won’t stop thuggin you cocksuckers should get a dose
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| Simpletons listen close, truest spit I ever spoke
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| It’s F
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| Ayyy Carumbaaa
|
| Hang ten cowabunga
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| Amazing larry ride the wave without going under
|
| Chop down a forest use a mac truck to tow the lumber
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| I wrung his neck then cut a blank check and wrote a number
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| Thou chow dumbeth (look in the skyyy)
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| It is I, Lord Steppington My cup overruneth
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| The Kosher man Ashevitte
|
| Sell him a couch like the sofa man at Levitz
|
| (Turn up the volume)
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| Rap so whoopdee friggin doo
|
| I’m gettin yada yada
|
| Breed is rare like a tasmanian chupacabra
|
| Scuba diver, makeshift craft Macgyver
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| Bomb specialist
|
| Dynamite blast survivor
|
| Put out the fires
|
| Peel off and burn the tires
|
| Pull the wires
|
| Screws loose I turn the pliers
|
| Piss on your poster burn a stack of fliers
|
| Burn dope and blow the smoke for promotion
|
| Attract the buyers |