| Yo, I can
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| Stun a disbeliever just by writin' a song
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| The type to revitalise your vital signs by vibin' along
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| It’s that eye of the storm upon this mic, it’s like a
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| that’s right, I’m a don
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| M—m—m—mind's aligned with higher guidance, flyer than fighter pilots
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| I’m like a fire, light up the sky with the vibrance (pick it up now)
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| Completely known to leeches, bloodsuckers like to bite this
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| They finally succumb to gum diseases if they decide to try it
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| I’ll beat that buzzer beater (beater), off my sneaker (sneaker)
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| Once it’s clean enough I’m g’in' up the puffin' of the reefer
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| I love my cheeba at least as much as Cheech does
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| Indeed I’ll munch, I’m like a piece of fuckin' pizza
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| Stuff a preacher, I ain’t up for bluffin'
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| See I just begun to I dream of seekin' certainty
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| But if you feel it come to see us, my team runs procedures
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| On some heeby jeeby freak shit, my steez could stomp a genius
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| Sweet Jesus
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| You we are ultimate
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| We be the ultimate, there’s nothing close to it
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| For all my homies with a bone to pick
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| On that b—b—bogus shit get—get—get over it, yeah
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| You see we are ultimate
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| We be the ultimate, there’s nothing close to it
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| For all my homies with a bone to pick
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| On that b—b—bogus shit get—get—get over it, yeah
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| Ayo, we’re fresh, son, etching gringos name up on your windowpane
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| Jeswon, the opposite of a rapper that’s rockin' shit for brains
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| Gu—gu—gu—gu—guess what? |
| I have never been in this for the glitz and fame
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| No to whips and chains, survivin' off the minimum wage, we’re winnin' the race
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| A million different ways to end up in the same spot
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| So we take off just like the Doc, Emmett sayin', «Great Scott!»
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| Jet in the DeLorean, legends I’m applaudin'
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| Enthrallin' the audience with a performance
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| The panhandlin' paupers that manhandle the fraudulent
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| Fantabulous formulas, black magic for sorcerers
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| Puttin' an end to a whack rapper who poorly flips
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| Call it quits thanks to my cantankerous authorship
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| This moment of clarity cut through the cacophony
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| And suckers who drop it sloppy, not rockin' the spot properly
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| Honey’s are flockin' while these knobbies are cockblockin' me
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| Knockin' me (why?), 'cause obviously we’re hot property, yo
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| You see we are ultimate
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| We be the ultimate, there’s nothing close to it
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| For all my homies with a bone to pick
|
| On that b—b—bogus shit get—get—get over it, yeah
|
| You see we are ultimate
|
| We be the ultimate, there’s nothing close to it
|
| For all my homies with a bone to pick
|
| On that b—b—bogus shit get—get—get over it, yeah
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| Yeah
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| I be the ultimate (ultimate)
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| We be the ultimate (ultimate)
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| Yeah
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| I be the ultimate (ultimate)
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| We be the ultimate (ultimate) |