| worldwide, this is full contact spit hard and never look back.
|
| Its like that. |
| Thats right we keep it live, 24−7 365, this is full contact yo
|
| time to plug in
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| and spit hard the audience is listenin'. |
| Its like that.
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| My life consists of makin songs on quality controlling balancing on platforms.
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| The space between theres an end to the means. |
| My name on your lips my face in
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| your dreams. |
| Extremes, not a term just limmited to sports it also derives on
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| how I drive with force. |
| Private thoughts are revealed through my regal
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| serrebral. |
| Serimonius masters down with the users of needles. |
| The spitters of
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| paint, the ones who move on the brake unified from the Lions gate to the
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| Sunshine state. |
| Weights and measures curved and straight letters are used and
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| fused together to deliver the devistating craving I have for making bars and
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| notes. |
| Step against strength for the stars in my throat. |
| Reservation for one,
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| plus a table for three, Ev, Prev, and MC and my man Chali T.
|
| (chorus)
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| Silver surfer, spiderman, mister fantastic. |
| Swollen dialated and Jurasic.
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| Madchild gettin his ass kicked thats a death wish im vicious, I swim with sharks
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| piranas and siamese fighting fishes, and wrestle alligators (why) cuz im a
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| gladiator, roll deep in seven forty’s sports and lincoln navigators. |
| S and M
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| rocks the spot no question your so wacked even your yes makes our suggestion.
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| Battle axe warrior kid, what the fuck you think, step up to my crew eh yo you
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| must have had too much to drink. |
| Its all about length thats long charaty. |
| Thats
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| why Im gonna keep rappin till im 70 ready or not. |
| Rock steady crew rep ready to
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| rock, knock knock your thinkin no ones upstairs but the lights on let bygones
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| be bygones, strength of a python. |
| Red Dragon plus a rocket circa icon.
|
| (chorus)
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| Yo rather then your colapse ear settin traps here kickin raps clear hopin you’ll
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| lap dear verbal paps smear back to smack fear till your dome piece tones peek
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| rockin from the cradle till my bones creak known for your microphone.
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| No imposta’s
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| all up in your bumpa prosta lickin shots from my partners makin the heart for
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| my brothers who got what im after, swollen members will be your disaster. |
| I
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| controll your laughter, a voice more powerful than pastor reppin sweeter than
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| three leaders of shatsa. |
| vocal tones fracter, rythmes blast ya through your back
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| run till the other verbal use cast ya. |
| Unmast disaster gunblast past ya and
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| crash past ya change the miuscule to the masta. |
| Minutes till you can grasp the
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| millions of medicles made perhaps to trap its in your heard out the pasture.
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| (chorus x2) |