| It’s just — hip-hop hangin in my head heavy
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| Malik said «Riq, you know the planet ain’t ready
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| For the half» when we comin with the action pack
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| On some Dundee shit representin the outback
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| Yo, we do it like this (All the way live, from 2−1-5)
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| You witnessin the 5th Dynasty family click (All the way live, from 2−1-5)
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| Across the map, one time for ya (All the way live, from 2−1-5)
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| It’s time to react to respond to react to respond (All the way live, from 2−1-5)
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| We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North
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| From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map
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| Bring it back to Respond/React
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| Then bring it back to Respond/React to this
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| The attractive assassin, blastin the devil trespassin
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| Master gettin cash in an orderly fashion
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| Message to the fake nigga flashin
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| Slow up Ock, before you get dropped and closed like a caption
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| Fractional kids don’t know the time for action
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| Styles got the rhythm that of an Anglo-Saxon
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| Round of applause, an avalanche of clappin
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| that’s what happen, now what’s your reaction
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| We heavyweight traction, pro-pornographin
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| Specialize in science and math and, original black man
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| Bustin thoughts that pierce your mental
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| The fierce rippin your sacks and
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| Vocal toe to toe impeccable splittin your back son
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| Simple as addition and subtraction
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| Black Thought, the infinite relaxed one
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| Shorties say they love it with a passion
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| Bring the international charm, see a squad I harass
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| REACT, you best adapt when I sling this rap
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| Another chapter, before when I have to trap ya
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| Map your whole path out
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| Go get your crowd so we can clap out
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| I drive down streets and take back route- positionin
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| When I’m in your system like glycerin
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| Fans listenin, from Michigan to Switzerland
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| Malik be blitzed again — on the station with the discipline
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| Solicitin, sometimes illicit or explicit with it and
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| From the deep end where the hills are steep
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| Nobody cares to speak, a land where life is cheap
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| The street mentality, mixed with the intellect
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| Personality, hell where I dwell as well
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| Niggas rebellious, bodies are found down in the cellars
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| My man caught a shot to the stomach, now who want it?
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| Confronted by these dusty blunted — cats who act like
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| They don’t know that the fact is that they’re bein hunted
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| A process of elimination
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| Activate your mind with the stimulation
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| Enter your zone with penetration
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| I’ve seen more horror than Bram Stroker
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| Strip your broad or play poker, then drink mocha
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| The sometimes socializer, the joke despiser
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| You woke the wiser, dealin with the Roots vocalizer
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| Up in your flesh from South Philly to West
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| I stampede your style, I’ll compile then bless
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| We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North
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| From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map
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| Bring it back to Respond/React
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| Then bring it back to Respond/React to this
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| Hey yo, I’m just a lyricist, a chemist of the hemp
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| The beat pimp, the ill Philly resident
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| That’s far from hesitant, corrupt like a President
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| Never benevolent but poetically prevalent
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| Cooler than peppermint
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| The Lieutenant for niggas talkin bout represent
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| No doubt, it’s obviously evident I get bent
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| Far from temporary son I’m very permanent
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| Hittin MC’s like an intoxicant, sent to prevent
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| Monopoly is my intent, the means is what I invent
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| This mental murder pay the rent
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| Lyrically I’m the dominant ingredient, the swift extravagant
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| Smooth lubricant, down with the M-the-Ill-itant
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| (ch-ch-ch…) That’s the sound of the Dynasty chant
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| We surround your camp, assumin the war stance
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| And bring it from the chest, now let’s dance
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| M-ILL-ITANT, feel the 5th guerilla chant
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| Y’all talk about bodies but you would not kill a ant
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| My skill is amp, would peel a nigga like a stamp
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| Caliber is of Excalibur now you be damp
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| When I operate a crowd will copulate
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| My game’ll make a room populate and 2−1-5th is the stock of hate
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| Peep the logistics, slump your squad of misfits
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| They all get they wrists slit, blast your ass if you insist it
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| Leave no trace so there’s no trace for ballistics
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| Turn your soul and body to statistics
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| In particular I’ve got that extracurricular
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| Squad in the stash who could be stickin ya
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| Slip and they vickin ya
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| Harass your po-lice commissioner
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| Don’t like chicks with weaves talking 'bout, «I need conditioner»
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| That shit’s deader than niggas with a morticianer
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| A jenazah, up in your flesh like plasma
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| Take away your last breath when you got asthma
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| Then meet Bad Lieu down at the plaza
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| Hip-hop extravaganza, tell your man I slump him with a stanza
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| Now «Who's the Boss?» |
| not Tony Danza
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| My force not green but the force is obscene
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| P.O. |
| took a piss test it came out not clean
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| Brody with my man Miz-Moose and Hakeem
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| My squad from deuce-four up to West Oak Lane
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| All the way to Tackawanna and Frankford they know the name
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| It’s like that… M-Ill-itant
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| M-Ill-itant, lyrically hostile, Bad Lieutenant
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| Check it out, foul style check it out
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| We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North
|
| From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map
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| Bring it back to Respond/React
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| Then bring it back to Respond/React to this |