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Get off my mother ****in life! |
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[poppa chief of zu ninjaz] |
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Yo, yo, this some zu shit! |
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Yo, ugh! i know you want it, and i wanna give it. ah! |
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[chorus x2: poppa chief of zu ninjaz] |
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I got this proposal i'ma slide across the table |
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Mansions, cars, horses, stables |
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Stocks and bonds, cds and t-bills |
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This time around, zu strictly frills! |
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[buddha monk] |
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Yo, you act like the sun don't shine |
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Then i decline and make that ass dumb, deaf and blind |
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Watch this spittin logic, just aimin at yo' noggen |
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Mind-bogglin, and damn right the zu will smash somethin |
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This verbal technique will soon be heard on every street |
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Just watch yo' peeps and watch sure you niggaz don't sleep |
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We defy the laws of gravity and burn thru yo' anatomy |
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Watch us work this *echos* |
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Three-hundred and forty pounds, this god will get down |
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With verbal smacks, bustin gats, jiggin nines in yo' backs |
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I don't play that, my silver spoon was bent way back |
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Hate to say that, but that's the way it is when you black |
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Not prejudice, but stay far away from six |
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And i won't give even if my balls gets bit |
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Stay reclined, never swine, twist the eighty-five wives |
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We can wine, to make this station all one mind |
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[chorus x2] |
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[buddha monk] |
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Warn this, awareness, i come like a terrorist |
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Enter the bloodstream, beware, can you handle this? |
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Disasterous, it is i, the one lord and master |
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The buddha's weight is made with gats and gun silencers |
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Powerful thoughts increase, as i release |
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The knowledge on my brain, and it's wicked like ten beasts |
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It is not the who, it's the old brooklyn zu |
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Styles get raw like a freakland zoo |
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Fix this, flows drillin in the banquet |
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Buddha inflicts the hoes like bake's existence |
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I remain to cause pain, dirty words and slang |
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Yo, you **** with the zu chain, ya headed for a headbang |
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Walk down my path, ya head is what i'm after |
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Save all those jokes and rhymes, no time for laughter |
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[chorus x2] |
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[buddha monk] |
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I warnin this to mind delinquents, with rap flows i speak frequent |
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Ya body's cold niggaz and ya mind tolerance is low |
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I like brooklyn zu done sole, first nigga thrown out the window |
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Damn, thrity-two degrees below zero and it feels like a cold war |
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There's never more gun totin, ha, backyard tree smokin |
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The haren with tote nose, with love at first sight, eludin |
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Bit pressure tester, yea, zu mind collector |
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Close your mind like chester's so your body gets light like feathers |
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Whatever, you think zu disappear niggaz?! ha, never! |
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I'm like a cold mind with head lice, yo, diggin in ya sector |
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I'm afraid for ya, we spread like the germ gonarhea |
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**** all you mamami's with no trace of pupmed water, see us |
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In god we shall trust, grafted skin we never touched |
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Flows like black dust, now think about god bust |
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*sizzlin sound* |
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(oh, what a rush!) |