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Heyo |
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Kool A.D., Kool A.D, best rapper in the world |
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Kool A.D., best rapper in the world |
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Yo yo yo yo yo |
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|
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Hey yo, you, um, ever notice how I'm the best rapper and not you? |
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Cuz watch, kick the kid a little knock and I got you |
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All y'all can suck my ass, ******, and **** too |
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Backseat rappin' ass fools eat sausages yo |
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Who da best? |
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Pac, Nas and Big ain't no best |
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I think that's what made no sense (that's right) |
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I think I'm Mack Maine mackin' on dames |
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In Dame Dash's art gallery, I rock for art salaries |
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But really I'm only on the clock for heart's actually |
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My darts recharge batteries, a large and smart family |
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My Socrates philosophies be starrin' in Marvin biographies |
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Your optometry couldn't see how my phonics be |
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Shout to Trackademicks |
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Phrenology could not ******yze my biology |
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I scandalize sonically |
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I vandalize prophecies that cannibalize sophistries of yesteryear |
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And make all of those fallacies extra-clear |
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And if you don't agree it, sit it out and give it an extra year |
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Come back to it, see how I hold up |
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My dumb rap is stupid but see how I fold bucks |
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It's gun-clap music but I use it to get some gold ducats |
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Some laugh, true, but I prove it in the cold hustle |
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My Cuban art is provin' the human heart is a cold, cold muscle |
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My flow free, like a corpuscle, look it up (look it up) |
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When your street feet fail then book it up |
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Street meat stale then cook it up |
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Whether snow, sleet, hail or whatever the weather |
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You better know me, player |
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I'm the mayor, make it reign, blood |
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Like Slayer |
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Insane game blood, Like blayards |
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Ain't nobody play it like me, cuz |
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See cuz, my ****** cuz? That's wholesale |
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Y'all tree retail |
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Me I blow jars 'til I see trails |
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More bars than like 3 jails |
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Including but not limited to cars and females |
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Show me anybody who can go three quarters as hard |
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As my only sorta hard bars, I'll probably go "nah" |
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You couldn't afford ****** as large |
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I'm too Bay yo, like Charles in Charge (get it?) |
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That's Scott |
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You made a little rap track and sat back and thought that's hot? |
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Well, that's not |
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You must have been off the crack rock |
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I'm hot like the block that cops often call the crack spot |
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You like the opposite of hard, like "that's soft" |
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Dewey Cox lookin' ass dudes on catwalks |
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Meanwhile the god chillin' like Bob Dylan |
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Freedom is an odd feeling, but I'm not trippin' |
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Wheelin' and mobbin', weavin' and bobbin', stealin' and robbin' |
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Obviously, you can see that I'm a problem and that's beyond solvin' |
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So keep on walking, like Dionne War-wick |
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I pee on a peon, 'til he want forfeit |
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I'll V on more ******t than your clique be on |
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Your clique is beyond horse******t |
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I'm free, y'all force it |
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If I had the time, might teach y'all courses |
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Told you I'm a lime to a lemon, you're a peach like more than twice |
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Your style ain't even sorta nice |
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I don't condone or endorse it |
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Y'all ain't bout nothing like Jerry and George, quit |
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You know like the show, Sein-flield? |
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Michael Richards make my ******' eyes bleed |
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Thanks to Mike Finito for making this beat |
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I asked you send heat, and you sent like 14, like 2 years ago |
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And all of them still slap |
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Every time I hear 'em I just wanna write real raps |
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You know, like tell 'em how you feel raps |
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Kill, kill, kill raps, Ill raps |
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Nah, nah |
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What the ****** he too trill raps |
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Your boy try to take a sip off the swill and he spill raps |
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Type to get jacked like Jill on a hill raps |
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Hillman graduate caps on the sill raps |
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Kick out the Jazz like Uncle Phil raps |
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Hungry like he never ate a meal raps |
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Sweatin' like he never popped a pill raps |
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Stop and chill raps, guys you got to feel that |
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If you don't, then ****** you |
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Fly like the paper I'm stuck to |
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I'm making it, believe it and trust, dude |
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My quantity is proof, my quality is classy |
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Positivity's cute, but negativity's sassy, you know |
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Picture my mulatto ass rolling, Degrassi |