| The Flying Dutchman
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| Ay, 'tis the phantom ship that forebodes doom
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| Yeah, motherfuckers, Flying Dutchmen
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| Lex Starwind, Jon Murdock, Cappadonna, the don of mic
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| Helium flash, star mode, apparent brightness, motherfucker
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| Ha, we shine brighter
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| You fucking with the hand of God, destruction’s right arm
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| Flying Dutchmen, pressurize, we brew a slight storm
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| 48 volt power inversion, turn this mic on
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| Get your HD cameras, Canons and Nikons
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| Televise tellin' lies, tell the truth
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| Till there’s demons telling lies to the youth
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| Did the wolves in the den got his eyes on the coupe?
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| Did the troops and the Feds got they eyes over you?
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| Demonize for the proof
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| Black magic, acid rain dance, FIFA dream trance
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| Continental wing to wing feather span, the enhanced
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| Biometric, through the fire wire, pyrotechnic
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| The way the God sound through the mic when projected
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| Well protected method, Vanderslice craft perfected
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| Sound waves contract, expand, enhance when reflected
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| The audio acoustic substance viscus elusive
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| Trained for years for this shit we producin'
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| Upper echelon pantheons what we standin' on
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| Compared to Fisher-Price soundtracks and them candy songs
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| I’m never right, but I can’t be wrong
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| So how the fuck I’m s’posed to eat, feed my family, dog?
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| I’m straight hungry, concrete Congo iron monkey
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| Tryin' to see my problems thin when my pockets get chunky
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| Glock’ll click, pockets rip, blocka hit lovely
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| Jump and flip, hop and skip, got to get money
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| Guard your face, force the ox, box unorthodox
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| I caught a shot, you faggots call the cops or you call your pops
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| No respect, fuck him too, we chase him down
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| Rip him out of his Cadillac, then mace the clown
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| Battle ax him, move like Action Jackson
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| Back smack him, hack him in his back, make him back spin
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| Your moms rush to his rescue? |
| We smack her too
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| All because you rhyme wack just like Maganoo
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| We hate rappers that get promoted but can’t spit
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| We rob rappers at they show for they bracelet
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| We run circles around your favorite rap star
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| And make him think, what the fuck he even rap for
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| 'Cause many people, thinking they bigger than Vinny Diesel
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| Until they hear him spit once and say, «That kid is lethal»
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| But they’ll never get signed to a major label
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| They’re too hip-hop, commercial rap is what’ll pay you
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| Let me tell you something, none of y’all can fuck with this
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| So you can scratch that right off your bucket list
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| You faggot weak sauce MCs could suck a dick
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| But you look gay, so you probably love this shit
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| I had a dream about fucking Shakira in front of a mirror
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| Sipping a beer with ice, no fucks, without a care in the world
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| Fuckin' it, suckin' it, huggin' it, rubbin' it, lovin' it
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| We on some other shit, hoverin' out of the mother ship
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| Drive and find you, Columbine you, silent nine you
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| If you can’t find your God, then Jon’ll find you
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| There’s a right and a wrong way to love somebody
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| You gotta dead your enemies, burn them with the shotty
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| Never let the evil ones take away your spirit
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| Fire, have it burn them, smash them with the lyrics
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| Someone blocked your blessings, the righteous don’t fear this
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| Jah keeping ya sane, stay unified
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| Mind detect mind, black Devils can’t hide
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| Never date a harlot 'cause she never on your side
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| Can’t trust the Pharisees, they based it upon lies
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| Befriend your friends, form alliance with your enemies
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| Jins come around, tryin' to suck up all your energies
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| Flying Dutchmen, we escaping all the penalties
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| Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, dark ministries
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| Father Cappadonna, yeah, we move like centipedes
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| Never falling victim to the love and them hate degrees
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| Maintaining our status, Wu-Tang, what? |
| Killa Bees |