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Verse 1-Planetary |
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Put me in the booth and I'll brodie your wave files, |
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You still getting booed at the open mic like 8-mile, |
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You still actin like spoken word is serious, |
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I laugh at you fag-niggas with dyed hair and pierced lips, |
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What kinda nigga from the hood is you? |
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I could name fifty niggas thats as good as you, |
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But a nigga like Plan man I'm better than all of em, |
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I make em quit, how their baby moms' is callin for em, |
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Askin me where they baby pop at, |
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That nigga he at the scene cleanin my White Sox hat bitch! |
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I tell em call you back in a minute, |
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Cause when he finish he gotta brush my dunks so vintage, |
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I'm in this rap game for the spinach, |
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My food-for-thought is like servin fresh lettuce to niggas, |
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I'm the chef and I'm cookin up def jams, |
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Broad street bully cut the check for ten grand |
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Verse 2-Doap Nixon |
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I made a promise that I never get high, |
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I aint scared of death, I'm scared to live wantin to die, |
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Cause the 120 opened my eyes, |
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The koran molded me, |
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The Bible told me what's in disguise, |
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But, I broke nights like they need to be fixed, |
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I had a thought pattern process pattern that D and B's rich, |
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But, the block chirped hid work in the trash-can, |
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I rip a nigga off and lay low in the Badlands, |
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Stay bent offa what poppi done sold me, |
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We all forced to hold heat, smokin the gold tree, |
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So knowledge knowledge till the 7-15-4, |
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Vinnie Paz, Planetary, Reef the lost Cauze, |
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Kamach, My nigga Crypt and Demoz, |
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Apathy, Celph Titled and King Syze, |
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We all 'bout to put this game in a frenzy, |
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And the chain's slight frost like the air in Benzy |
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Chorus-Demoz |
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I can feel a breeze through the leaves when D's passin me by, |
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You can breathe you can bleed but please wrap me a nine, |
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On Black Christmas, |
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I need a Gun with bullets on Black Christmas, |
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Black Christmas, |
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Nigga look at me little B, |
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My peeps askin me why, |
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I'm a G this is me, so please wrap me a nine |
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On black Christmas, |
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I need a gun with bullets on Black Christmas, |
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Black Christmas, |
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Verse 3-Des Devious |
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Yeah, yo it's incredible the most, |
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How a nigga's flow just come so easy, |
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Child's play with me home boy, please believe me, |
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The way I formulate on time with metaphors lines and punch lines, |
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Some times the shit amaze me, |
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Fall back with a spliff and admire my shit, |
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Don't need you, got enough people on my dick, |
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I speed through, breathe life on a track so slick, |
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With sick shit, time is money so I must move quick, |
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Epitome of rap, |
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Never been clapped never been slapped , |
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Just one time, cold winter day in '79 |
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I catch that jock, and I'ma beat him till my arm's numb, |
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And stomp him like Lars did that drum on one, Mothafucka! |
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Verse 4-Demoz |
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I once heard the art of war is don't start a war, |
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So I don't think you wanna ride like a carnivore, |
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I mean carnivore excuse my French I'm on the floor, |
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The bruisin wet got me feelin like I took a Hallucinet, |
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Blue is bent, L-Y who the truest yet, |
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Blew the inf, |
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Brain fragments flyin through the fence, |
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Stupid is as stupid does, |
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I aint stupid cuz, |
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I rap like a mothafuckin animal my blueish blood, |
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Never spills, I wrap my hand around the bluest steel, |
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Blew is grill like foremen and informers know who I kill, |
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Ill, now get outta my face, |
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Sorry officer, Me no hablo Englais, |
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Let me offer you, food for thought on the plate, |
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Once you know the block hot you hit the fire escape, |
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Get in get out, |
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Hit liars and snakes, |
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Your birthday only day you rely on the cake nigga! |
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Chorus- Demoz |
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Verse 5-King Magnetic |
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Army of T.P., honor of street thieves, |
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The harmony of harm done to a beast-Beat, |
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I execute from hook to hook like a nice jab, |
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And pain from pushers squeeze like my wife's hand, |
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Slight tan, my homie Muslim like Fife's man, |
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Pillow of Kush as if the Kush is my life span, |
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My product slip through the right hands like white sand, |
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Those I kill for can count on my right hand, |
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Beef handled like blades in knife factories, |
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Cut coke, cut bum niggas like nutso, |
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This aint a movie clip, It's a jewelry stick, |
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Ever see me runnin, |
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You'll have to be like "Who'd he hit?", |
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You knew he Vic shit you still trusted him, |
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Know a lotta robbers from bids, still fuck wit them, |
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That don't mean they up in my crib, I'm still hustlin, |
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Anniversary 9-11 we still sufferin! |
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Verse 6-Vinnie Paz |
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I'm a muthafuckin monster, everything I'm spittin is all real, |
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Take a good look in my trunk and it's all steel, |
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Ain't nobody in control it's Allah's will, |
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The other trunk aint filled with diesel,it's all krill, |
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Arm leg leg arm head when the gods build, |
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You the first devil with a plate when the hog's killed, |
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You the first one to run from the war, |
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You the first one to run from Vinnie's gun when it draw, |
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I left your whole team deaf when I spoke, |
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Then I put your whole entire fuckin set in the yolk, |
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Yeah, we aint the mothafuckin set to provoke, |
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Or else the last thing you see the fuckin deck of a boat! |