| I really hope you’re not
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| Cause let’s get something straight right now
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| (Madchild, cowards don’t really want a part of me
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| I roll with a venomous squad of all veterans
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| You’d rather kiss a rattlesnake than to step to me)
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| Yeah, I’m the little fuckin' hulk, I don’t fear giants
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| Leave em catatonic in a closet like in Weird Science
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| He doesn’t even have his license, Lisa
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| I spit the nicest ether, eatin' all these rappers like a slice of pizza
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| I spit typhoons, conjure up hurricanes
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| Little Monster wreckage warnin', get yourself insurance claims
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| I blow the roof off of group homes with two poems
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| Killin' all of you clones
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| Metal teeth, I chew bones
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| Clip you like a coupon
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| Grip you like a talon, hear Mad scream, supreme too
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| Listening to Balance and Bad Dreams
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| From broke to making mad cream
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| I’m fuckin' dope again, wide open from a bad scene
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| Used to be a nightmare on diamond street
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| But now I’m right there, a white terror, a rhyming beast
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| I got a cracked tooth, lookin' like I’m wack proof
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| Sportin' a beard and a tooth like I’m Jack Cousteau
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| (Prevail, remember me?
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| Crimson wordplay, see with the pen I’m explainin'
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| Rock a show hard as a army of viking warriors)
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| Rhodium, deuterium
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| Man, trinium isotopes
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| Hydrogen chambers on explode mode, let em blow
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| Adamantium, vibranium — Marvel at my universe
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| Scapel competition brains so you can see how stupid works
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| Don’t matter if it’s grey, splatter blood across the hallway
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| Could do this all day and I will so lie still
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| Don’t make me call Vinne Paz, Slaine and Ill Bill
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| Real masters of the dark arts with kill devil hilts
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| I ride upon precipice, break till black mornings
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| A black plague front page, it’s a rap rage warning
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| Headliners, flatliners, co-signers, endorsers
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| I water board on the board, apply my enforcers
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| Rap brass, knuckle tough
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| Talk grass, knuckle up
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| Commander and the chief, buckle up before I fuck em up
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| Don’t care about whereabouts
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| Who let em out into open space
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| Way too much radiation, glacial caps in Everglades
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| (Swollen members, heard of us?
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| One mass, the unit of murderers
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| Two MC’s, one producer
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| Vancouver cats swingin' a battleaxe)
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| The hardest part of my artistry is finding people as smart as me
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| Or finding equal spitting shit wholeheartedly as hard as me
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| Can’t help it now, this shit is just a part of me
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| Coursing through my veins and pumping in my heart and arteries
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| Mad raps retardedly, when Mad raps it’s startling
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| With time I just get sharper while it’s wearing down my cartilage
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| An oddity, I’ll make you loose some bodily fluids
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| And once the thought of me rude, and once a lot of you knew it
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| Now rollin' blunts, a bunch of nunces, feel like dunces, I’m the truest
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| They’re just a bunch of cunts that want some comfort sayin' they knew it
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| Knewin' they fuckin' blew it
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| I’m blown up what we’re doin'
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| Cause you’re in if we went through it
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| Now Europe is fuckin' toured
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| Obscurity, I’ve endured, secured a future, creative
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| It’s music related, a partial art form that’s narrated
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| Incarcerated minds grind thoughts to a halt
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| So I participate in rhyme crime to break out the vault
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| I’m real bad for your health like a shaker of salt
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| It’s make or break it in this industry so be an adult
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| Since my sinsiter administration no one should vote
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| My public demonstration, demolitions, crews in revolt |