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Whattup whattup whattup |
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[Crypt Speaking] |
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Yo, OS, Celph Titled baby |
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What's goin' down |
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[Celph Speaking] |
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My niggaz, yo spit that shit |
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[Crypt The Warchild] |
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I'ma known beast sick with it full blown speech |
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Buryin' bones deep beneath the stone streets |
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Stampedin the globe deep with the Pharaohs so don't sleep |
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We flame arrow your dome piece but when these cannibals go eat |
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I'ma cannon with no leash no hammer and no heat |
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Spit at random anytime acapella with no beat |
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Believe me dog cyclop vision I see through fog |
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Y'all transparent niggaz on tape I see through y'all |
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Like a crystal ball, my dogs gnaw till ya tissues gone shook |
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When niggaz ran to they pistols to hit you hard |
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This games a fixed neck, go ahead and pick your card |
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Like playin' Russian roulette by yaself on a trip to Mars |
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I break atoms in the same fashion I spit these bars |
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Put barbwire on my mic rip it tight till it slips and scars |
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Outerspace get it right we shift and drift from y'all |
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Outerspace get it right we shift and drift from y'all |
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[Outerspace X2] |
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It's a revolution, a new state of mind |
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We bringin' hip hop back with new ways to rhyme |
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Yesterday it was dark but today we shine |
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Tryin' to make the best out these last days in time |
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[Planetary] |
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Stick me in a room with a track Celph Title made |
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No tellin' where my ink flow it's like a tidal wave |
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Battle emcees dog I survived those days |
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Now it's murderous spittin' fire those pyros crave |
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Makin' joints from the gutter, the grittiest rhyme |
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Sorry if you think I'm rude I get too shitty at times |
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I'm with Crypt on barstools talkin' rep, cars and pool |
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Tryin' to build foundation with no garage and tools |
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With a squad that bruise anybody who act |
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Outta order Q-Demented will demolish you cats |
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Outta water outta food, we grisslin' niggaz |
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Don't speak, cuz you know your body fittin' in rivers |
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Don't sleep, does who slept don't pose a threat |
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We runnin' with the Army now Pharaohs to the death |
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We are, what you hard renegades wanna be |
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We spit regardless, no matter center stage or the street |
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[Chorus X2] |
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[Celph Titled] |
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Yo, first off let me say fuck you and fuck dead homies |
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You got beef with me you got beef with my cronies |
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And when it come to machineguns, we fire Tommy's like Sony |
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Leave you missin' from your tribe like Jahrobee |
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We block buster spot rushers; my shots musta' |
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Let off from the glock and sprayed you down like crop dusters |
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I rock mustard color Timbs the same ones that busted ya chin |
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Celph Titled and Outerspace the spicks is at it again |
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Get a number for it to drop through |
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See me with a 4-4 when I drop through |
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That's my bitch and I don't think she likes you |
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And all that bullshit about let there be light |
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It wasn't that easy plus I gave life to Christ |
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Immortalized my story noticed that I eternally rep |
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Bring mother Mary to Maury Povich paternity test |
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Their ain't a nigga that can play, that's preposterous G |
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Cuz I'll make sure ya album is released posthumously |