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Where's the intruder?" "Looks like he went to the tower" |
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(Trunks) |
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Before I rock raps, I drink a keg of Listerine |
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Then I spit the freshest lines you'll ever hear for centuries |
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Then I form blazing sword and cut your mic cords |
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And kill them garbage rhymes only your friends get hyped for |
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Blitz your whole team, them niggaz need to come clean |
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So I give 'em an acid wash like old school Levi jeans |
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(Lockjaw!) Crackin your faulty frame |
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And I bring the house down without hijackin planes |
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Locked stocked with two smokin barrels and will use it |
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To fuck up more beats per minute than drum'n'bass music |
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Trunks ain't a rapper, he's a monster from the future |
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Twistin your body in more positions than Kama Sutra |
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Smart-ass, gettin the Last Word with Jim Jome |
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With a right hand like Dr. Claw that's known for breakin bones |
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{"I'll get you next time Gadget, next time"} |
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We can have a close encounter of the fucked up kind |
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"Time warp, set on |