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(Intro) |
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(Freak it now) |
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Knights will come, be advised |
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They'll come for them |
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Be advised they'll come |
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Someone's sure that they'll be here |
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(Double K) |
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Yo Thes, what (what up?) |
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Can you rock the mic? |
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(Thes One) |
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A ha ha, my mellow my man, it's like ridin' a bike |
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Uh, Double K |
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(Double K) |
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What's Up? |
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(Thes One) |
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Can you rock it? |
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(Double K) |
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Like ridin' a bike, but only with training wheels |
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So what, shoot the gift and let them know the deal |
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(Thes One) |
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I shoot the gift like NRA members on Christmas |
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Morning warning rock MCs like isthmus like a principal |
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(Hook) |
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I'm the principal, our crew's invincible |
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Under The Stairs |
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Impairs auditroy of your whole municipal (municipal?) |
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Code area, attack like malaria |
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Concrete jungle bundle of joy |
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With bobby-boys |
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It's scary to think our tape destroys your crew's hopes (what?) |
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I can't cope with that, say no |
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Put it on a DAT, Double K |
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'Cause everything I say will one day give away |
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Or another recovered in it's original place |
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Signify this straight caligrified verse |
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Petrified rock, put your goddamn block in a herse |
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(Thes One) |
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Only thing worse, chaos bursts the eardrums, the P |
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Making the beats and rhymes funkally-dunkally |
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Fat like chunky here, but not out for radio play |
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Here's a crew washing the wax my mind space |
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Tight A, not Navy deals, no way |
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Pets for three sixty five days |
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I add a fourth 'cause I leap year |
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I leave tracks like Amtrack |
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Battles the P and Superman |
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After that your crew will try and forget like Izoin(?) |
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It's the Amistad, man Beckets(?) know it better |
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I rip it all up like a letter for the principal |
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(Hook) |
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(Thes One) |
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Chaos bursts...(Double K cuts in) |
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(Double K) |
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(Unintelligible) my crew bad as milk |
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That's one, lace the track |
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Like a blunt with the weird smell |
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Nigga, your stunned |
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Other from the brothers with another monkey(?) shit |
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Put the viddy(?) on the stick and make sure it don't skip |
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Hip-Hoppin is rarest, punk |
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You know you wanna admit it |
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All these crews runnin around with wack tracks |
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They don't get it, the gettin distressed (word?) |
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They gettin me mad |
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(Thes One) |
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So what you sayin, Double K? |
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(Double K) |
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Just put that shit on my tab |
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Don't feel like dealin' with it now |
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I'll deal with it later |
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See, the mic's in my possesion |
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Yo, so while she did it |
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To the minmute |
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Stupid frontin' since we first stepped in |
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Brought it back a couple of times |
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Now you give it a grin |
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First you tell your homey, |
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"Yeah man, that shit's fresh!" |
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Didn't know this kinda shit could be lurkin' the west |
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We puttin' hair on your chest |
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We flow with no hesitation |
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Late radio stations ain't allowed on these premesis |
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Millions hearin' this |
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Late at night like domestic violece |
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Smackin' you the fuck up |
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Until we get some silence (word) |
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Keep you like Judge Judy on the mic |
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Puttin' up a fight |
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Rollin' hard 'till the break of daylight |
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So next time you corny niggas wanna come hardcore |
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Go listen to 'Lil Kim (word...) |
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"What's the time? Time to rock our shit" |
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(Scratched until end in various ways) |