| 24 Hours From Now, I’ll be still around
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| Digging up potholes, then kill ya sound to fill the ground
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| My skill abounds over yours in comparison
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| Cause you square and It’s embarrasing
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| You can talk to the hand like Mr. Garrison
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| Your strategy is to pass time
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| Figured that if I posted first, then you could get in the last line
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| Praying that you’ll surpass mine, with a punchline and a crass rhyme
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| But I be Def with the language without the hand signs
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| I put em up and you can’t climb the edifice
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| Cause I’m phatter than Cameron Manheim with the rhetoric
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| I’m a landmine to stepping degenerates
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| And I’m bettin I’m even better when edited
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| When it gets into repetetive doses
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| You’ll be beggin' for more like I was a medical sedative
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| I’ll pull your card and leave ya discredited
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| You see, my style is like a family reunion, because it’s all relative
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| You’re outta your element, in America with a peso
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| You can’t deliver your own rhymes, like a pantomime at a stage show
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| You gonna need backup. |
| coming up with another production
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| You’re style is akin is to your site
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| You’re whole flow is under construction
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| Been a cartoonist since birth
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| Since your sweating my records
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| Go check the package because I dissed you on the insert
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| You’re better off as a comic
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| Cause Punchline artists get framed splattered
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| And hung like a painting from Jackson Pollack
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| So, crack your wallet, cause your raps are squalid
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| Cause you suck more than porn starlet’s mouth
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| In a black hole with a vacuum on it
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| So, swallow it whole, nigga, pride & all
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| Show the same ignorance that made Master P decide to ball
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| And actually since your stal I’ll win with apathy
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| Cause I’m a threat veiled as your teacher like the aliens in the faculty |