| Grouch, whoa, we’ve got The Grouch
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| My man Grouch is in the house
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| Another member of the Living Legends crew
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| (I never saw your 4-track demo circulating in my town)
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| I mean, you know, fools just come out and start rapping and shit
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| You know what I’m saying, never putting any work in
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| Prior to, you know what I’m saying, going into a 24 track studio
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| All a waste of money and shit
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| Never really rocked a show, you know what I’m saying?
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| Never had to perform in front of people
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| I cannot lie and say I’ve rapped since ‘85
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| I didn’t battle in the parks when the art of b-boying was alive
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| But if I did I’d be the baddest emcee out
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| Like many claim they are beyond the shadow of a doubt
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| I’m on the path, but then my clout is very small right now
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| But as the days go by it grows tall, and I’ll try
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| My best to be the fresh-est that I can be
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| And let you see me, not the creation of a company
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| Not crumpling G’s, though I’m traveling overseas
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| Scribbling flows with ease as my siblings joke and tease
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| I’m soaking these days up, cause it doesn’t get no better
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| And I know better, I flow whether or not you try to stop me
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| Cause I’m the master, so who’s the copy?
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| Not me
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| Someone take a census, rap is senseless now
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| Fools create the fake and pretend it’s style
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| I try to mend the break but the fracture is deep
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| Most rapture is weak
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| And then they came by the dozens
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| Sisters, uncles, nephews, brothers, nieces, cousins
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| Whoever you was in this world you were eligible
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| You’ll be tellin the whole planet you were a victim
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| As long as you rhymed that with «trigger finger» and the «N» word
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| Men heard this and were interested
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| Centers tested these men on speed and the ability to make bass
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| Then they take teams and the battle begins to take place
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| At a great rate currency was made
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| So few emcees were paid, most faked it and played rich in videos
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| Collecting scratch from doing shitty shows
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| It’s pretty low how it functioned
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| Most had the assumption that rap was an easy way out
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| The easy route, that’s how I know what I’m talking about
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| So in ‘96 originality is really hard to find
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| Fools create one song and submit it just to get signed
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| They say forget finding out how shit works
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| Then they obtain a contract and complain about getting jerked
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| My written work stack grow larger everyday
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| As the reality of being true comes farther into play
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| It gets harder in a way, but in the end
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| I know that everything I do today’s going to pay off
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| So stay off the bandwagon when it does, in a minute cuz it’s near
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| I feel it in my bones that all foes shall run in fear
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| I come with shear musical elegance
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| And ladies who try to degrade me, they’re unintelligent
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| But it’s like, you know what I’m sayin'
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| Muthafuckas that never did a show
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| Holdin' a mic all at the top
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| You can never hear what they sayin'
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| They wanna complain about the sounds and shit
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| Get on MTV Raps or Rap City
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| Can’t even pronounceate and pronounce their words
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| Can’t even speak English, trying to rap and shit
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| C’mon, master your shit before you get out in the public with that bullshit
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| For real, shit is senseless |