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Intro: Ant Banks |
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"Ah yeah you know what I'm sayin' |
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Ant Banks kickin' it wit the boy Spice 1 |
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Comin' at your dome, hey Spice let it be Known" |
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Verse 1: Spice 1 |
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Spice 1 with the 31 flavors |
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I be takin' my time so the suckers catch my vapors |
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On the dope track, rollin' like a Mack 10 |
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I'm a fool when I'm fuckin' with a fifth a gin |
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Fly, into the ass of a beat like a buckshot |
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So damn dope I could be sold up on a drug spot |
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This is a section of my many styles |
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But my direction is to take MC's for many miles |
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So, Peter Piper packed a perfect pickle peter |
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Well, I pack the mutha fuckin' milimeter |
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Where, in my trunk with the bump and the funk slam |
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Another brother like me sayin' god damn |
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Fact 1 I'm insane to the fuckin' brain |
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Open up my mind and blast like it's a hurricane |
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Your in front of a firin' squad |
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And my job, is just to let it be known |
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Let it be known |
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Verse 2: Spice 1 |
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Rolling up past a junkie in my Delta '88 |
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With 2a's in my lap, and my aim is kind of straight |
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Lots of static up in my rhyme, bitches clingin' up to my noun |
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Gettin' dope like a kilo or an ounce or a pound |
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Bitin' up on my rhymes tell me how much you can chew up |
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Nigga up in the rearview with his brains col' blew up |
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I am not the one or the two or the three'a |
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I be what is known as S-P-I-C-E |
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Let it be known, yeah |
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Let it be known |
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Verse 3: Spice 1 |
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Dope, how mutha fuckin' funky can a nigga get |
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Comin' wit the shit ya can't fuck wit |
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After the murda I'm a step and then I couldn't see ya |
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Lockin' him up inside my mind, like in Santa Ria |
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187 mutha fucka |
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Kickin' that funky shit ya just can't get enough of |
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Spice, the nigga that's icy like a popsickle |
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Hard as a nickel mutha fuckas act fickle |
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Bet yet it tickle, cause the nine got the back side |
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So I kick 'em so the bullet take 'em for a ride |
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On a long trip, get in your shit and dip |
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187 up in the tape deck wit the muder shit |
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Takin' a ship to the dome |
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Spice 1 is up in the house muther fucker, so let it be known |
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Yeah muther fucker, let it be known |
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Verse 4: Spice 1 |
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4-1-5 was my hood that's where I'm from bitch |
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Black steel is my brother, fuck wit me you'll get dissed |
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Boom boom to the head now your body numb |
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I'll punk you out and slap your bitch and get a fifth a rum |
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There you are C.B.Bannern' all your casualties |
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That's what you get you fuck the 1-8-7 Faculty |
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I'm a fool to my bone that's what's goin' on |
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My boy got static so I used this mobile telephone |
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It was busy so I hng up and called twice |
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He said who is it I said it's M.C. mutha fuckin' Spice |
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He told me someone sold my boy up like some col'd slaw |
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Pack your nine I'll pump the beat up in the Jaguar |
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I push the brakes and smash the gas and started smokin' shit |
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Picked up my phone and called my posse from the Okland bitch |
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Shot to the city like a nine to the boat yard |
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We chopped him up and sent his fingers wit the postcard |
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Think I'm insane, no I'm just a little senile |
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And plus I'm caught up in this muther fuckin' freestyle |
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And all you suckers must'a had a fuckin' Pay Day |
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Nutty to fuck with S-P-I-C-E on any day |
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I'm so insane that my mind is gone |
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Check it out muther fucker, let it be known |