| Yeah
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| Styles
|
| Come on Click Click
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| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around
|
| Uh Knock 'em out
|
| Uh uh Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
|
| Come on Click Click Click Click
|
| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around uh Knock 'em out
|
| Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
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| When I was a youngin'
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| Who would ever thought that
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| I’d be number one
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| Banging in your trunk fat
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| Beats for the grungie
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| Heat for the outsie
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| People in the back
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| Keeping it bouncing
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| R to the Y to the U Get up Get up Suckers ain’t live yet
|
| Enoughs enough
|
| You damn right
|
| We changed for the better
|
| And got back together
|
| And locked rap
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| Surrender and drop that
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| Duck like you back in your bush
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| You wanna learn to battle
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| Start cracking them books
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| I’ve been sick from the jump
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| Dirty from the get go Six in the pump
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| Thirty in the clip load
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| Rip through a beat
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| Like butter in kill
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| Peep the last man shook
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| Yo We stutter and still
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| R-R-Ryu is too ill
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| Stop and think
|
| You want some girl scout beats
|
| Or some knocks and pins
|
| Have it your way
|
| I’ma stay dropping a flame
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| Blaze and pop insane shit
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| I never change
|
| Chorus
|
| Click Click
|
| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around
|
| Uh Knock 'em out
|
| Uh uh Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
|
| Come on Click Click Click Click
|
| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around uh Knock 'em out
|
| Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
|
| Verse 2 (Tak)
|
| So here we go again
|
| The dopest if you noticed him
|
| Hopefully I’m rolling with
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| The golden ounce I’m supposed to get
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| For flowin it Knowing when suckers ain’t live enough
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| Yet
|
| Time’s up Line 'em up Till they buy enough crack
|
| With your gold card razor
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| Shot the whole place up Snatch the face
|
| Playing and remove the fake make up Stand on the edge with a mannequin head
|
| Cram it with lead
|
| And battle till you hand him his legs
|
| I got a plan to get fed
|
| Till my stamina ends
|
| Crap in your Benz
|
| Stomp with my lavender Timbs
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| Say you don’t even know
|
| When the show is over
|
| A lonely soldier
|
| Grown for closure
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| A small time crook
|
| On a stolen poster
|
| That’s why I wrote a book on this rollercoaster
|
| Now everybody move but they can’t even speak
|
| The party rules of an outlaw that’ll handle your teeth
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| No tools can’t write
|
| Can’t rap to a beat
|
| Your O’douls getting sappy
|
| You’re wacker then me How you gonna claim something that you never believe
|
| The regular breed that tipsscales
|
| Sell us some key
|
| But under your sleeves
|
| You fronting to whatever degree
|
| The second you breathe
|
| The element of the weapon you squeeze
|
| Like click click clack clack
|
| Tell you please
|
| There ain’t nothing better then these raw delicacies
|
| Come on Chorus
|
| Click Click
|
| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around
|
| Uh Knock 'em out
|
| Uh uh Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
|
| Come on Click Click Click Click
|
| Talk about sick shit
|
| Fuck around uh Knock 'em out
|
| Line 'em up Let me tell you something
|
| Suckers ain’t live enough
|
| Let me tell you something
|
| I won’t have no more
|
| Verse 3 (Tak)
|
| Yeah
|
| Instead of running
|
| I’ll walk instead
|
| I remember growing up rocking Talking Heads
|
| You may ask yourelf
|
| How cool he is It’s just me fascination with the Human League
|
| Verse 4 (Ryu)
|
| Now I don’t know who said it and when
|
| I’m not nice
|
| Yeah right
|
| That bitch never said it again
|
| I play rough to the death
|
| Enough respect
|
| Let the slugs eject then
|
| Come correct
|
| My man Mic’s my best friend
|
| Arm to the teeth
|
| We settle beef together
|
| Like identical twins
|
| Oooh shit catch a bad one
|
| Oh Can you imagine the pain of a .45 magnum
|
| Bang. |