| Yeah, Gurizzi up in the house, Gang Starr forever
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| (Gang Starr) New York City. |
| Mm-hmm
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| Fuck the fame and the bright lights and all that
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| (Yeah them fuckin chicken-head bitches) I’ma do this here
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| I come off like my sweatshirt when I’m workin' out
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| MC’s be workin out, no doubt
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| You shouldn’t come around cause I’ll beat you down
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| To the ground with this lyrical four-pound
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| Yo, I’m right in your streets, like Urban Outreach
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| Rhyme perfection, injectin' like the doctor
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| Rocked ya, and then shot ya, bow-bow!
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| Whatever you’ve got, I got more
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| You’re insecure, motherfucker!
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| And now your facin', yes, your ultimate challenger
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| The Avenger, your fate is on my calendar
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| Notice this spirit I posess is more than holy
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| I’m Gifted Unlimited… fuck the rest you niggas know me
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| My mic illuminates your whole spectrum
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| Crush your dome section, punks I wreck 'em, mics I bless 'em
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| I don’t why, MC’s would come and test the INI
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| Master of self, my wealth, is just my state of mind
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| I stack my loot, just for the rainy day
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| And you can pour out your forty, for rappers I slay
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| I bring the bounty back
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| And then I give my thanks for just being black
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| I got the knack, the rap format to bust your corpuscles
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| Piecing through your fuckin' snorkel
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| Even if its goosed-down, you get run out of town
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| The apparatus gets blessed, suckers get put to rest
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| No more of the impure I got the cure for this mess
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| The wackness is spreadin like the plague
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| MC’s they wanna get paid, but they can’t make the fuckin' grade
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| How many times are wanna be’s gonna try?
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| Yo, they must wanna die cause they can’t touch the knowledge I personify
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| I travel through the darkness, carrying my torch
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| The illest soldier, when I’m holdin' down the fort
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| For some time now, I held the scrolls and manuscripts
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| When I start to go all out, you be like, «damn, he flipped»
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| Now I’m sick, and fed up with bullshit
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| I got that lyrical Full Clip, givin' the verbal ass-whip
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| So don’t trip, Its the Gifted one, spliff-ted one
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| Alias Bald Head Slick, why is niggas on my di-dick?
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| Cause I be iller than a kamikaze pilot, don’t try it
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| I’m about to start more than a fuckin' riot
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| Styles unsurpassable, and knuckers thats suckers
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| Yo, the motherfuckers is harassable
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| For I be speakin from my parables and carry you beyond
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| The mic’s either a magic wand
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| Or its tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb
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| And I read your palm, no pulse your dead |