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(feat. Mr. Khaliyl) |
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[Chorus x8] |
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Bringing back that old New York rap |
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[Oracle] |
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When I show you how make it hot, little chickens flock |
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Butt naked buttocks make niggas act unorthodox |
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Not trying to get in please, half of ya'll got some sort of disease |
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Got and STD before your GED |
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Shaking, what your momma gave you back breaking |
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In one week got more strokes on your ass than cash them players be making |
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Smells like bacon in the room when you finished |
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Toxins in the air Mrs. laboratory chemist |
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Mixing poisons in your loins and |
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Letting boys in like they toys you bent over |
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Pick up my words like 4 leaf clovers |
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X-files false under your Skully like agent Mulder |
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Tarik Holder name written in government folders |
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Golden mind swollen multi-dimensional zoning |
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On a cosmic level boning making stars for the zodiac |
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At 10 years old known in my hood as a brainiac |
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[Chorus x8] |
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[Mr. Khaliyl] |
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I jam like traffic so watch me rock your whole intersection |
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And have your crew running in 4 different directions |
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At 90 degrees angles that connect at no point |
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Til the missino is completed every sipher I anoint |
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With my whip appeal as I whoop your crew single handed |
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Living proof that the universe expanded when I landed |
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On every continent island and water body existing |
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On any planet in any galaxy I enlist in |
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When I decide too be born into a form that is tangible |
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Only because I made it firm enough to handle you |
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Other than you be looking up in the sky waiting for mysteries |
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While I'm steady creating history |
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Picture me rolling like ome of these cats I'm aware of |
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Without certain bodily parts men have a pair of |
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Never happen, whether we rappin or we scrappin |
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My only duty to awake you rudely if you napping cause we |
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[Chorus x8] |
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[Kimani] |
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We bring it back to back like Siamese |
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That's attached to the back of the knees |
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Most labels lacking the fee |
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To back a nigga like me one of the livest Mc's |
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Out of the NY, capital K see when I |
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Drop the semi-automatical, lyrically dramatical |
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Grammatically written to leave a niggas head splittin |
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Splittin rhymes to slice minds like enzymes in centrifuges |
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Busting mines then lay back like the luge |
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We upped the ante, bounced from the penthouse to shanty's |
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And now second coming got believers quickly running for the |
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Wax racks to pack stacks of black facts on fat tracks |
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On black wax in knapsacks |
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In back Ac's dipping with the volumen on 10 |
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Down the Ave with my joint on your blend |
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See ya'll need to comprehend every time this brother pick up his pen |
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And thought you emerge many niggas get served now that's word |
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We got you |
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[Chorus x16] |