| Resonate on sides of the mind like sideburns
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| Too complex, who want next?
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| Wave bye through your back with my arm through your pecs
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| A barbarian who bar, a misfit in the bar
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| Bury him rhyme bar of a pallbearer with the ball
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| All time great
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| I rate or I rake your mind
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| On a high plane pilot meditating in the sky
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| Know the word play’s top notch
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| Not stopping till the name’s known
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| In cities in more hoods than in chop shops
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| Huh, stop, watch, listen, learn, study, memorize
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| Fuck a metronome somebody grab a stopwatch
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| Call shots, boss like a Soprano
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| Boss on the mic you the boss of a Sbarro
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| It’s Michael and Scottie and Horace
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| Holding automatic rifles to body the chorus
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| Go
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| «Never be able to understand what we got son» — M.O.P. |
| 'On The Front Line'
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| So tell Barack to drop a bomb on this bitch
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| Been underground for so long I found Osama and Saddam in this bitch
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| I mean I’m ominous, god damn, plots to watching the kid
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| Anonymous just hit my DM on some reconnaissance shit
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| Synonymous with drunken novelists and proud of that shit
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| Some gin and tonics give me opulence I’m out of this bitch
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| Like fuck rap, you can have it back I’m out in the sticks
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| Not selling out just realistic, I’m not counting on shit
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| I’m not Mackelmore
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| Not going back and forth to who’s backpacking more
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| I’m packing tours and diligently cracking doors
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| Uh
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| And I’m not mad at yours
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| So why you mad at mine?
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| I can feel the hate you don’t gotta speak like a pantomime
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| So this ain’t real rap
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| It’s anti real rap
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| I make that feel rap when you see me kneel rap
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| I write my rhymes where my blood congealed at
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| I do it for the people — that New Deal rap |