| Step master, step faster
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| Step on the gas and turbo jet past ya
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| And it’s only begun like Jimmy Castor
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| Dumbin' out, coming out the ghetto blaster
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| We came here to blow your mind
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| Step Masters!
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| Campfire pow-wow, chief up the reefer
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| Three passports, four visas, keep up
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| A grey street sweeper, block runner
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| Stop, I’m not gonna
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| Plottin' now from sundown to sun up
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| I gotta run my funds up but I hope we mutual
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| I’m not a little dumb new fuck, the Usual
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| Suspects become clientele, thread 'em through the needle
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| Or the high of it, decided whether ever felt the Beatles
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| A believer till they label me a dreamer
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| Went from popular to sittin' on the bleachers and slangin' these
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| I am the truth, it’s a planet dream
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| I ain’t the mover, I’m the man that you hand the cream
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| The students starvin' till we packin' out the Garden
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| If we fall short of House of Blues, pardon
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| I’m out for startin' to finish shit
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| Carvin' out our images
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| This Deliverance, a Bubba Spark futuristic
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| Beats like this
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| Make me bang my head and beat my fist
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| On the table, ropes thicker than them ski lift cables
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| Talk slick, I’ll connect both of your lips with staples
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| Like a mummy rap, but this is straight dummy rap
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| Not Easter Bunny rap, don’t sleep on the paper
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| Or take money naps, I race on the track like Ricky Bobby
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| Spit it sloppy, my profession’s videography
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| I’m high definition, 1080p description
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| Flipping like things that flip
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| Don’t read off a script, heavyweight, I make the needle skip
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| Crush 'em like a fuckin' Dorito chip, then move on to the next
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| Lava burns heavy on the decks
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| Middle finger stretch, triple X, words that I stretch
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| Make it impossible for me to catch a breath
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| Move faster, telecaster, coming out the ghetto blaster |