| Block the exit, call security
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| Its the owls, the owls
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| Nocturnal instincts
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| Outdoing myself like public masturbation
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| There’s only gold that I find like egyptian casing
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| Shit hits harder than the blunt that they’re lacing
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| Running down the street like Smokey when they’re chasing
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| Like customs out for the right cheque
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| It’s the rhyme vet
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| I stay grounded like a side step
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| Dialects higher, only few could ever grasp him
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| Scientists are warning like it’s Godzilla passing
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| So unique that the government are marking him
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| Hunt me down like I had the super power harbouring
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| Harnessing my strength would be a problem for all
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| What’s left is turned loose like an opening tour
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| People always say yes become a crime lord
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| Put your hands together like your standing on the diveboard
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| Hard headed like I’m really half cyborg
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| Uplift the nation but only playing the right chords
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| Yo
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| So now we switching up the frame like we benching weights
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| We were meant to play centre stage
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| When I tread the maze, set the pace
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| Step away from the vehicle. |
| I don’t know your destiny
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| I give them hits but then I get to keep the rest of me
|
| My nerves are jumping all over and it’s starting to get to me
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| Is it really telepathy? |
| Am I reading it mentally?
|
| Where does the adventure lead? |
| Guess we finding out eventually
|
| The centerpiece of the table, I’m never leaving, I’m faithful
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| The recipe they’re unable to copy. |
| Maybe they got me
|
| Tables are turning and nature is working its magic
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| I’m swerving the track, bursting the barriers
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| Watching how good people are turning to savages
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| Observing the damages like damn this shit
|
| I don’t understand this shit
|
| Was acting like a captain and he just abandoned ship
|
| Shit
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| Everywhere I go, I’m moving on the low
|
| Holding down the show with a bag of dro
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| Old school like Casio watches when he flow, never know
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| How the flow get switch up, when I swap it
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| Like the topics shit will heat up like the tropics
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| You’ll get held up like a hostage, that’s my final diagnostic
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| Throw you in a giant mosh pit, taking all your dosh until
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| Your life is what the final cost is Here’s
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| Some A Class lines You better get crushing
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| 'Till your rushing dilate your pupils dunkno they let the sun in
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| They lie awake buzzing wilding from the substance
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| Hyperventilating to these lines and percussion
|
| Are they white or rhyming substance Iron eyes in abundance
|
| That’s the oneness that’s wanted like hunters
|
| I wonder where the blunt is spin another one and bun it
|
| Am I on it?, That’s a hundred
|
| So I’m out here rhyme fronting
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| I’m repping from the gutter of the cities to the bumpkins
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| The barbarian of sound. |
| Banging my chest
|
| I rock a barb wire crown, bin bag as a vest
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| The scrap pile king. |
| Police are back filing
|
| But they gonna have the resurrect Elliot Ness
|
| I’m telling you straight, (who?) Llywelyn The Great
|
| My troops record the revolution and send me the tapes
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| Wives fanning me with palm leaves sending me grapes
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| Or it’s off with their heads call me Henry the VIII’th
|
| I’m followed by the thunder and the snow and I won’t be happy until this world
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| is under my control
|
| Where the light is, we’re coming from the other side
|
| My vampires attack until the sun arise
|
| Why the fuck you acting unsurprised
|
| The dark lord up in the death star, above the skies
|
| Illegitimate king, you best believe this shit
|
| I’m beheading anyone that’s questioning my leadership
|
| Back with a bang, hatching a plan
|
| To be a prodigy the same time fatter the land
|
| I used to smoke hash with my nan
|
| She told me that we stick it to the man
|
| That the cash took the knowledge and ran
|
| From the land of the hippy, divvy the mud pie
|
| Not Mississippi. |
| From a drip and if you want to get drippy
|
| Like strizzy went from sticks to the city bricks and the kitty leave
|
| Women singing it’s a pity but it ain’t really
|
| Never a diva, seal or the beaver and there’s a bunch of shit rappers
|
| That don’t fuck with me, don’t fuck with them either
|
| Bunch of G’s up in Britain, always has been police
|
| Trust the procedure, so we Ebeneezer Goode
|
| I ain’t your usual bad character, actually nice
|
| But still abuse and embarrass you face to face
|
| Don’t take the place of the amateur, I’ve seen it happen before
|
| They think they coming raw but the get blinded by the camera |