| They call me Hektik
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| 'Cause the way the pain is interjected
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| You talk shit, you gon' regret it
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| Fuck it, you said it
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| Watch your mouth fool
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| I’m on the move
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| Time to play
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| For words you say
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| One level of pain on display
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| Bitch, back off
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| Too late your bitch is spread out, you jack off
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| Leavin' you wishing that you was dead off
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| The planet
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| Can’t understand it?
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| Let me explain
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| All that shit you talked drove me insane
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| But my brain swells, my ears bleed
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| And all the bad level of attack is underrated,
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| remember that
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| Head’s get cracked
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| With baseball bats
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| I love the sound it makes when it pings
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| I even love it when my ears ring
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| Stomp on suckers in a second
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| Leave you with no sign of recollection
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| Rearrange your whole memory section
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| Disease, infection, hopin' that I die slowly
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| Covered in corn stalks, protected by the oak trees
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| Freeze… muthafuckas!
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| Get your hands in the air… muthafuckas!
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| This ain’t a game
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| I don’t talk shit I’ll slit necks just because
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| Catchin' a buzz
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| And keeping a look out for the fuzz
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| If I get hit by the cops I’m goin' out like Val Kilmer
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| Heat the whole squad, droppin' the bomb
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| then watch 'em simmer
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| Pain is a beautiful thang it makes my spine shiver
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| Murder for hire, better believe I deliver
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| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin'
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| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin'
|
| (Big Blaze)
|
| Big Blaze from the I.S.I.
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| Superstars Underrated
|
| From the B.K.I.
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| Big Kids Incorporated
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| Who faded?
|
| You think I’m touched by that shittalk ways
|
| Knew you back in the day
|
| Homie, you ain’t changed
|
| You still a bitch… how many times
|
| can you switch your format?
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| Wonder why you under everybody like a doormat
|
| Talk that shit, cuz (yup!)
|
| Rap that shit, cuz (yup!)
|
| Produce that shit, cuz (yup!)
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| But you ain’t shit, cuz (Yup!)
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| And even if you sucked my nuts, you can’t play
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| I still wouldn’t give yo' ass the time of day
|
| You just a punk, you need to raise up off me partna
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| Your shit is sloppy, we be Benz and you jalopy
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| Duck the fuck out 'fo I kick ya ass
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| Next time you see a nigga, just ride on past
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| Heavyweight like all of the company I keep
|
| We be deep and real niggaz don’t sleep
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| That shit about my man’s just not true, ho
|
| Just take that drum machine and
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| shove it all up in ya asshole
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| Quick to go down nigga, Puffy-gold imposter
|
| Back that ass from a rock 'cause you’s a busta
|
| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin'
|
| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin'
|
| (Mr. Bones)
|
| As we moving with the speed of the robot sonic exhaust
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| Chronic fumes, fuel, gin and tonic
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| Half of the world is corrupt and alive
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| Other half is depressed and they want to die
|
| I.S.I.
|
| Why ask why?
|
| Realize there’s a killer in your face,
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| look him in his eyes
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| 'Fore your body dies
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| I’ma grab your soul straight up out your chest
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| Put it in my black glass jar with all the rest
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| Of the competition
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| Pack rhymes with precision
|
| Eliminating adversaries
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| And all of our divisions
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| Are cuttin' like an incision
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| While other suckers is missin'
|
| With enough cheese for three niggas
|
| in college with tuition
|
| Take a listen
|
| I drop knowledge like a teacher
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| An ill preacher
|
| Preaching a sermon
|
| Are they learnin'
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| How to sing along
|
| With the dead man’s song
|
| He’s got an X in his head so I know which side he’s on
|
| And brain dead people always say, «right on!»
|
| They got ten on the weed cause we all high arms
|
| We let bygones be bygones and then dismiss
|
| Y’all wack ass bitches in the abyss
|
| Fuck a diss
|
| 'Cause you let your colors show too many times
|
| It goes way deeper than rhymes
|
| Fuck a beat cause I rock accapella
|
| Crazy ass fella
|
| Used to fuck Cinderella
|
| In the back of the pumpkin coach
|
| Smoking roach after roach
|
| Fuck her all night
|
| And in the mornin' make me French toast
|
| Coast to coast
|
| Drop knowledge like a teacher
|
| I.S.I. |
| in this bitch we play the preachers
|
| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin'
|
| If you think somebody’s dissin' you, they probably are
|
| So far all I been hearin is player hatin' |