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(El Da Sensei) |
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My characteristics be mistic, you ask who is it |
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doin it, with the next type of tecs running through it |
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The bullshit, I mean, rap style clean |
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while I lean my 6 foot frame, Tame's the other being |
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Seeing that niggas wack, time to take it back to basics |
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Like saucony sneakers or a pair of Asics |
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Don't hate this- analyst, hip hop activist |
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battle tecnician who be on a mission now listen |
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(Tame One) |
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Tame One got more grip than gore tex |
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I'm comin through your set like CBS |
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writing my name up in your projects |
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Who wanna test me when I'm sess-ted |
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Pushing the paragraph like it's a Lexus |
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I come off hot like Texas |
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My west disrtict predicts that I'm the shit |
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So I walk through the bricks and shoot the gif like it's a full fifth |
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I bring the ruckus filling dutches with dust |
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I spread love like Take 6 until the whole spliff bust |
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(El) |
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We wish to diminish MC frauds who need to check |
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into a rap clinic, thinking that they all in it |
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My message to those is right down to the core |
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kick your best MC and all his niggas through the door |
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3-point offense, defense level's high |
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Stamina a hundred, leave your team ass dry |
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(Tame) |
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It's still our nature to hate ya |
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play you out like Las Vegas |
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cause my crew's got more game than 16 Segas |
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with adaptors, battling wack rappers and actors for all their stacks |
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and keeping my family f**ked up like the Jacksons |
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(El) |
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Yo, you couldn't find my dap if you tried to use a map |
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or instructions, the number ones sold, guns be bustin so |
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Best to recognize, eyes is on the prize |
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watching for spies who want a piece of the lyrical pie |
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(Tame) |
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Crews be flippin like they really wanna die |
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but when I ease up, they freeze and can't look me in the eye |
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I got folders on the jokers who talk trash |
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They never walk past, cause I be checkin for they're hall pass |
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Haul ass and let me shine like glass do |
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when I die make a statue, I get in you like a tattoo |
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I pay homage to all the bombers that I'm fly with |
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enduring politics and getting paid off of some side shit |
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(El) |
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I push niggas back who lack skills to hold their own |
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Jackin other brothers' styles way that they can zone |
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Prone to dismantle your insides like Mickey Mantle |
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My form lasts long, like trick candles |
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You see the work of these rhyme experts |
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that hurt niggas in cyphers to make the other states liver |
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Survivors of the fittest light the graf then ASCAP |
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Sen-S-E-I peep the next paragraph |
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(Tame) |
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In all actu-al my style's wilder than a crack spot |
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I'm illin, using the putas you buildin as my backdrop |
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I paint a picture perfect with a thousand pencils |
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From the back of Continentals, Lincolns, drinkin, thinkin mental |
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You better look through your girl's tape collection |
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cause this next subject might have a nigga second-guessing |
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I wanna do raps and get fat like Apache |
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so I can get nasty and dis a nigga like a taxi |
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(El) |
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My exquisite exhibit has facts in this specific |
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Most niggas boast how they represent and come with it |
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But whose the rudest boys, coolest with poise |
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Artifacts be stickin them with rhythm poise |
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Is on the biz, taylor skills like Liz |
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Tryin to save the culture, vultures wanna run the biz |
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You hear my voice more clear, intact |
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peep the lyrics, trap my sectrets |
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Ill like the film called the Curor |
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Questions, answers, brothers payin dues |
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MCs recognize, yo, we endin this interview |