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"Dem no like me and me no like dem |
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Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend" |
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[Scratch Chorus] [x2] |
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"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them" |
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[Vocal Sample] |
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"Demolish and polish (Who?) God damn!" |
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[Verse One] [Celph Titled:] |
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(Fannn-fuckin-tastic), crashin' thru ya wall like The Kool-Aid Man |
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The suit cost eight grand |
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Murderous clans that grabbed purses and ran |
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Ain't shit cause with bare hands I disassemble conversion vans |
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My Hell's Wind Staff blows limbs back |
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I won't spit tracks with wick-wack cliques that come with less than ten stacks |
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Yeah the price went up, bakin' cupcakes |
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And if I told you what was in 'em you would probably throw the icing up |
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Hyphen-fuck-slash, you kickin' that Balderdash |
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This is how you 'sposed to rap, I'm where you should focus at |
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Chicka-chicka-check, me and Trigga Treach |
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Triple the torture, torch ya when you intercept a Intratec |
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Intercept text messages, collect "Evidence" |
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Like a Dilated Peoples box set, get upset, turn ya top red |
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I'm a hot head, swing a rock in a sock net |
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Cop the Swisher from Achmed, let the glock spread |
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Put you in a box dead, carnivore, half animal |
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Acupuncture treatments from the splinters in my axe handle |
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Blast ammmo when I mash out |
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Cause when I lash out, I rip eye lashes out |
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[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x2] |
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"Dem no like me and me no like dem |
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Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend" |
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[Scratch Chorus] [x2] |
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"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them" |
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[Vocal Sample] |
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"God damn!" |
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[Verse Two] [Treach:] |
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Trigga Treach... |
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Known for rippin' the raps, grippin' the gats, nippin' ya naps |
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Fuck around and get kidnapped, slip and get slapped |
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You'll be worth a handsome ransom, tied in the camper |
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By some hip hop Black Panthers from Tampa |
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Puttin' paws to ya jaws, how ya feel now? |
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Plus you know we throw that steal 'round in Illtown |
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Pil-pow, nigga-naps, nuh-Naughty style |
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Watch ya turn the strippers 'round the .40 cal |
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Gritty pile, plenty stacks, 60 pounds |
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Handin' out my mini-Mac, 50 rounds |
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A negro without an ego, desert eagle stay low |
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You play bro and be spinnin' in the air like a tornado |
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NATO, couldn't save ya, pray a minute, pause |
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Ya gone now thanks to Treach and The Demigodz |
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These demographics are drastic, ya bastard |
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Mastered the ass-kiss, show ya ass and get smacked quick |
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[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x2] |
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"Dem no like me and me no like dem |
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Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend" |
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[Scratch Chorus] [x2] |
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"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them" |
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[Vocal Sample] |
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"To come exact with the stupified rap" |
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[Verse Three] [Celph Titled:] |
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Sneak attack entourage, barrage of shooters on deck |
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That move with a set, pull a tool in a sec, imagine what we do to ya rep |
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(I'm sayin') dissect with a chainsaw, not a Katana blade |
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My problems make the common state of your heart rate complicate |
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The voice of god, colder than a oyster bar |
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The boy been hard, like Hasselhoff hoistin' Deutsche Marks |
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For Naughty fanatics I'm bringin' Ali Baba back |
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Holy magician bringin' that Dalai Lama rap |
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Send bengals who will mangle you |
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Leave you in the wild I'll serve you as bengal food |
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Aim and shoot, with every word that we speak |
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Tell 'em Treach we gon' |
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[Treach:] |
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Smack 'em, call 'em burgundy cheeks |
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Biatch! |