| Hold your flix, I’m not for the photo op’s
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| It’s Black, code name Yaphet Kotto ock
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| My twist like a ratchet in an auto shop
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| Since granddaddy old Desoto stopped and he got the Caddie
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| I been gladly servin, any y’all cats wanna act determined
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| Spit pesticides for rats and vermin
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| Seem like none of y’all chumps is learning
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| Y’all hopeless, and I’m a little better than dopest
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| Far from a brand new kid to show biz
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| Tryna hold on, maintain my focus
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| Coming out the room with a cloud of smoke of dro and
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| With the punches
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| I survive and rock
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| Cause I keep the crowd alive
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| And the texture of my voice
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| Is course and kind of hoarse and cut
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| Like I’m throwing a thousand knives
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| Party people, gather round
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| What we have here is a brand new sound
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| Reach for my waist you hit the ground
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| You better duck when that awful sound goes…
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| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
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| Yeah! |
| Thats what’s happenin in the parking lot
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| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
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| Thats whats happening on stage
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| The man at hand that rule the school
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| And reach and teach the blind and find a way from A to Z
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| And be the most to boast I’m load and proud
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| The game and reign that remain
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| The heat is on so feel the fire come off the empire or the
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| More higher level of depth one step beyond dope
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| To suckers all scope and hope to cope but nope
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| Cause I could never let 'em on top of me
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| I play 'em out like a game of Monopoly
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| Let it speed around the board like an Astro
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| Then send 'em to jail for trying to pass Go
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| Shaking 'em up, breaking 'em up, taking no stuff
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| But it still ain’t loud enough
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| So Questlove let the fire roast
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| So I can flow and we can kill the whole show cause
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| Party people, gather round
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| What we have here is a brand new sound
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| Reach for my waist you hit the ground
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| You better duck when that awful sound goes…
|
| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
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| Yeah! |
| Thats what’s happenin in the parking lot
|
| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
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| Thats whats happening on stage
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| I’m live
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| Design a finer rhyme that’s right on time
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| One step beyond and not behind the line
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| That seperates thought from divine
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| You can take it as a caution, or a warning sign
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| Look for antonyms, words I’m sending em
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| Homonyms, synonyms good like M&Ms
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| You know the time when it’s Riq Geez slicing
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| I turn a Mic’s last name into Tyson
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| My brain like a factory constantly creating
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| Materials stitch by stitch for decoration
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| My lyrics one fabric the beat is a lining
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| My passion of rhyming is fashion designing
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| Now it get sorted cause people wanna sport it ya bought it
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| If you didn’t then you couldn’t afford it
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| Poetry full of surprises it’s like a game show
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| And my brain go
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| I do my thing yo
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| Party people, gather round
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| What we have here is a brand new sound
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| Reach for my waist you hit the ground
|
| You better duck when that awful sound goes…
|
| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
|
| Yeah! |
| Thats what’s happening in the parking lot
|
| (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom)
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| Thats whats happenin on stage |