| I’m just a liberation scribe writing these bars of freedom
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| The god’s got kids and uncle g’wan help feed 'em
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| My words free the mind whether you hear 'em or read 'em
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| The duty of a civilised man is to teach 'em
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| Wave your guns at the system and unify the prisons
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| I save a ghetto child from getting drawn out at Princeton
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| Still a million man march even though some are limping
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| Like Kunta caught up in big pimping and linen
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| Karma sutra, I sooth ya
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| Nah I ain’t bitchin'
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| I armoured through ya, moved ya and seized your kitchen
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| Was my steez with ease to blitzkrieg the women
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| Now my hymns hem her heart’s stitching
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| See I’m reppin for my fam that’s the joy of living
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| See I reps for my fam that’s the joy of living
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| I see you reppin for your fam and that’s the joy of living
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| Was thanks taking, there was no thanksgiving
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| I keep my eyes on the sparrow
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| Americas always gotta full barrel of stress
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| So strap on your vest
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| Since the manger avoid the one left in the chamber
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| Divide and rule kills the knowledge of self
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| Now this remainder remains to be the last born
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| The first scorned
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| The one you made the scapegoat
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| The god building like Joseph
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| In technicolour peep my dreamcoat
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| Y’all keep it real
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| I’m a keep the real estate on the block
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| I don’t fiend for the cream
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| I fiend for the gold it’s backed by
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| Y’all use the physical two
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| All seeing third eye
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| Pierces holes through your spleen
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| Scores goals on your team
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| Choke, holes on your neck
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| Bill, fold all your cream
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| Blaow!, holes through your dreams
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| Unbalanced is the beam
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| The sun rises in the east in Bruknaam
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| I come clean
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| I see you reppin for your fam that’s the joy of living
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| Was thanks taking, there was no thanks giving
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| I be wise as a serpent, peaceful as a dove
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| Flow be perfection, the attribute’s love
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| From Brixton to Brooklyn, topsoil, I recoil to Medina
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| Ascend thrones in brownstone
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| Blaze pastures, mines greener
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| In backwoods trees get nestles
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| With the beast within I wrestle, for anointed be this vessel
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| To rebuke the devil
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| No progress without the struggle got to hustle before you
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| bubble
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| God’s words (are) no hustle though
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| See brother Bains, like Malcolm, think long range
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| Sincere
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| My life’s dedicated to change
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| Locked up in the belly (of) America’s gut
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| If I’m sleeping with the enemy, my eyes wide shut
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| You see I reps for my fam for the joy of living
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| You see I’m reppin' for my fam, that’s the joy of living
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| I see you reppin for your fam and that’s the joy of living
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| Was thanks taking, there was no thanksgiving |