| Yo!
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| Can you imagine the pain I’ve been through for years living underground
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| The dirt turning my coloured gowns thick grungy brown
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| Comin' hard at you imitators, don’t be fooled homie
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| Takin' the name, stakin' the claim, the one and only
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| It’s the real Jokerr, with a big-ass chip on my shoulder
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| Pushin' a boulder over a cliff, squishin' an ogre
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| Sittin' alone, chippin' in stone, tablets of Moses
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| Carvin' new commandments out for my own savage indulgence
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| I’ve been holding a grudge, itchin' to exact my vengeance
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| Bad Intentions, enacted by the blackened henchmen
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| And the hands of the diabolical masked magician
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| With the two pronged hat danglin' back in the wind whippin'
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| Thunderbolt crashes and bright flashes
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| With spiraling cumulus clouds in the sky cappin'
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| Welcome to my labyrinth, vampire bats and white chasms
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| Now try laughing bastards!
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| Here we go, Here we go, Here we go
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| Everybody better know, better know, better know
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| Hey, if you wanna play with the J to the O
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| You probably figured that I would have been gone, but now I’m coming back ohhh
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| Here we go, Here we go, and it isn’t Welcome To The Show
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| I take it to a whole new level
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| And you know it so be careful when you open up your mouth and try disrespecting
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| me
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| I’m sticking the snobbiest clergy to the humblest late commoners
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| Take it back when I’m old like government wage garnishments
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| I’m jacking alien race, gettin' a high speed chase through space
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| Hop in the black hole and shake Romulans
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| I’m universal like joints on drive shafts
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| I drain my bladder on any rapper on the ladder I climb past
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| You deniers lit a fire under the lion’s ass
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| Fuck being stuck in the bucket with you benign crabs
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| I look at life with a cynical slant
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| Society slighted me I try to bring myself to forgive 'em, but can’t
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| I was already wound tight, they keep twisting the clamp
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| I bottle it up, blow my top, get belligerent and rant
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| Cussin' out anybody, even if they ain’t involved
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| Kickin' walls, flailin' on the ground like spoiled kids in malls
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| And I ain’t socially sensitive at all
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| I put on stilts and flip midgets off bitches!
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| Usually when it comes to my rhymes and cussin', I’m frugal
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| But I’m the only rapper dope enough to criticize my shit, so fuck your approval
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| And fuck a suburbanite swag rapper of any race
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| I’ll slap him in his face 'til it fuckin' disintegrates
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| Fuck a horrorcore rapper trynna collab
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| My prices ain’t high cause I’m that good, they’re cause you’re that bad
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| So bitch to your faggot fans on Facebook about it
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| That was the last chance that your shit talkin' ass had
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| I promise you don’t want it, I’ll call you out and stand there
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| Daring you to spit publicly, admist the fanfare
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| Fuck bullets, you’ll be sweatin' nuclear bombs at home over a blank pad,
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| shakin' with a bland stare
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| Think hard as you can yeah, and while you’re at it, I’mma stop fucking with you
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| and go diss an artist who’s fans care
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| Just be damn 'ware what you saying when you playing in the sandman’s lair,
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| heh yeah!
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| All I’m saying, is come correct you know?
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| I’ve worked too hard and too long at this to be takin' that kinda shit from a
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| punk like you
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| Hell no the respect ain’t mutual
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| I’m on some grown man shit, you’re on some «go cry to your fans» shit
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| And in case you didn’t get the memo, the underground is officially under new
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| management
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| So that means, unless I need something from you, sit down and shut the fuck up!
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| Ain’t you got some weekly freebie to record or some shit?
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| Maybe a $ 25 collab with some other whack-ass artist
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| Expanding your legacy and shit, fuckin' Prone Records
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| Everybody on your whole roster sounds like a gasping asshole
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| Get out of here, you ain’t a spitter
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| Why don’t you go play with your little horrorcore buddies
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| Go build a fort
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| You better check the repertoire before you come knockin' at my shit |