| T-Minus one minute, mark and counting
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| T-Minus one minute, mark and counting
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| The firing will? |
| the sound
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| The? |
| will be armed, in just a couple of seconds from now
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| Yo, Ced, we only got a minute left
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| What are we gonna do?
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| Word
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| Yo I’m gonna bust a rhyme, we out of here man y’know
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| We hit the road, y’now
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| and come back next winter, somethin like that
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| Aight?
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| Cool
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| Aight, let’s do this
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| A minute left, to give you another rhyme
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| Thumping it, to keep you all on time
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| Kicking it, wit much rhythm and pace
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| To set my tone, follow the bass
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| Quickly, other rappers are annihilated
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| Designated, eradicated, suffacated
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| Like a cake that’s set to bake
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| I’ll take, mold and shpe
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| Scrape, like a butcher, I’m carvin
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| You’re brain’s starvin, I’m steady scarrin
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| A plastic garden, the crowd is chargin
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| And I’m dodgin, I’m livin large and
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| better then ever and clever to battle me never
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| Whether or not you rock alot or rhyme
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| To twist and shift the pitch to switch the gift to gab
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| To drop a dab of rhythm
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| Give em, a certified rhyme
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| That I use, confuse, clock the time to a point
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| A metaphysical radius
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| I’m Ced-Gee and all I have to say is this
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| Yo, I’m outta here, yo, I like to say wassup to my man CJ
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| Down at six corners, Red Alert, the Violators, the Jungle Brothers
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| The whole family, Afrika Bambaataa
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| My man Andy down at D&D
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| Yo, I’m outta here, peace! |