| I’m like Kato, my rhyme’s the Green Hornet
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| You know you want it, rappers get up on it
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| I flaunt it, throughout the metro-politan
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| The world’s my area
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| Dance interior, fresh interior decorated
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| A painted wall with rhymes
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| That glow and show the biter slow reciter
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| Up who mighta tried to copy this style
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| Or change their ways, to wonder if you can
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| Take me out, on the microphone
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| I’m strong like Benzine, I kill a fiend
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| Rhymes in my tank, brains pumpin gasoline
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| Out, I use Exxon
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| And any rappers wack, my mind checks on
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| Meters and gauges, crankin up lyrical engines
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| Now I’m ready to roll
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| On you and him, your whole crew
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| Let’s film it, now take two
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| Watch the movie, your brain will be the star
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| Thoughtless, when I take you far
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| To the galaxy, and leave your domepiece
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| In the hemisphere, now you’re lost on Jupiter
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| Your brain revolves around, you get stupider
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| Tryin to think, where you’re goin
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| On other planets, rhymes are flowin
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| Through the Milky Way, quicker than warp speed
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| Brains I feed with heatable rays
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| Ain’t it good to you?
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| I’m a wise man, prophet of the bible
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| You wanna try me, then I’m liable
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| To go and flow and show, don’t you know
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| Edgar Allan Poe, could not write like this
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| Mysteries, with a twist
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| And I insist, to uplift my metaphor
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| Slice dice and write, and make the brain sore
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| For, you and him
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| I kill a rapper, then begin
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| To wrote and smoke you’re chokin then provoke
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| The joke the most, and walk around like notes
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| Programmed, you’re equal to a dummy
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| Them want rhyme? |
| You do summies
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| Backwards, forwards, sideways
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| Anyway, I say hold it
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| Now you’re in space, plus you’re folded
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| Up, like molecules of matter
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| Plus you scatter, you wish you had a
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| Chance to shake, recuperate, recreate
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| The brain cells, I have ate
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| Scraped, soak em in solutions
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| Like Benzine, iodine producin
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| Student of Cee’s, tryin to be, just like me
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| Ced Gee, the Ultramagnetic
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| A scientist, skilled with knowledge
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| Once a God, years of college
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| Accumulated, my wisdom and wit
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| Thoughts float, ideas are legit
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| To fit, the rhythm of the tempo
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| Also, the music more so
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| Have to move groove soothe and lose you
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| Now ain’t it good to you?
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| Once again my rhyme blows up enemies
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| Wack MC’s, across the nation on rotation
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| You get the hype at the station
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| Promotion, I put your brain in slow motion
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| Like lotion, and let it float in the ocean
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| Then I drown it, your brain begins to bubble
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| I bring trouble, hang with Barney Rubble
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| In Bedrock, and watch another head rock
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| Go through West to Washington and Ced block
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| The Avenue, passin you, bashin you
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| In your face, rhymes are crashin you
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| On the chrome dome, swellin your Astrodome
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| You’re in an ambulance, I’m takin you home
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| To complete the ways I’m on a mission
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| I see your balls of clay with x-vision
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| I’m a scientist, your satellites are weak
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| They get dimmer every time I speak
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| On my gyroscope you hope to seek the style
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| That copacetically, bugs you out
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| On the mic, Kool Keith in a spaceship
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| Risin, not followin, plexin
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| Muscle flexin, lyrics for connection
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| Rhyme injection, rhythm perfection
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| Brain selection, has protection
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| My reflection, shines
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| Triple times your eye, invisible
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| I get by your brain
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| Now ain’t it good to you?
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| Aiyyo Keith, how you say?
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| Just another Boogie Down Bronx Ultramagnetic sure shot
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| Done at the Ultra lab of course
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| Mixed at D&D with my man Andy
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| Yo, we outta here |