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"The following presentation is rated R." |
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Hi-C Uhh! |
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God damn! |
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Yeah! Hi-C |
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This my nigga |
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DJ motherfuckin |
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Quik We gon' take this shit back to the |
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Mixmaster days and put it all in your jawmeat and wiggle it around a little bit, hahaha |
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Youknowhat |
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I'msayin? |
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Party favors nigga |
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Ahh yeah, y'all need a couple of 'em |
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We ain't playin witcho' bitch-ass either |
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Youknowhat |
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I'msayin? |
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Niggaz try to walk the walk, talk the talk |
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But that bullshit ain't nothin man {*scratches*} |
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I said that bullshit ain't nothin man! {*scratches: "aw, niggaz, niggaz.."*} |
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Niggaz can't do what we do {"NO"} {*"Bullshit ain't nothin man!"*} |
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Damn; so what you need to do.. is.. {"stop stop stop stop STOP!"} .. shut the fuck up and listen for a minute {"Listen!"} |
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Pay attention - might learn somethin {"Now LISTEN!"} |
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Don't you carry yo' ass in the studio fuckin wit dem boys neither or they put knots all |
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UPSIDE ya motherfuckin head with the beats! |
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That's my nigga |
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Q.. I call him.. {"Quik, Quik-Quik, Q-Quik, Quik-Quik"} |
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Quik-a-lodeon {"Too Quik!"} |
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Yeah.. huh? |
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Yeah.. {"Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik"} |
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Talk.. {"Motherfuckin Quik"} spit it |
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Yeah.. ooh! |
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Haha, yeah |
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Now off of two-fifths of drank (drank drank) |
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They got yo' boy lookin for a bitch to spank (spank spank) |
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Baby you can kick it but ya sister cain't (nah nah) |
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Runnin 'round smellin like a septic tank (ewwwahh) |
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Girl you need to stop you know your ass is stank (stank stank) |
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Runnin 'round beggin all the baller for bank (bank bank) |
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Tryin to hit a lick but like that you cain't (nah nah) |
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Cause everytime your ass come around |
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I faint (wooo!) |
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People get to passin out; |
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I'ma give you one more chance but yo' ass is out |
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Now don't you bring yo' ass back smellin like raw trout (trout) |
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Cause everytime |
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I see you |
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I'ma bust you out! (Here she come, look out!) |
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And you niggaz with the demos (demos) |
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Man you just as bad as dem hoes (hoes) |
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Talkin bout your record comin out (out out) |
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But you need to put some gum in your mouth (hell yes) |
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Cause before |
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I hear you rhyme or you get a beat from |
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Quik Shyheim |
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Da Kid Yo yo this |
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Shyheim, and y'all can suck my |
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DICK! Son you owe me, fuck the dough |
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I want it in blood |
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You was my homey, showed me nuttin but thug love |
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Put me on to the game, bought me my first chain |
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Let me ride shotgun, in your |
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Benz and Range |
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I'm thinkin how this big nigga gon', go against the grain |
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Hit him up when it's foggy outside, about to rain |
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It's about to rain teflon cop-killers |
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But we ride teflon can't-stop-killers |
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I thought you was fam 'til you switched the love |
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Now you, rich and fuck, you forget the thug? |
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Heard you on the radio, but |
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I ain't get no plug |
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And if you come around the way, |
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I should get you stuck |
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I wish you luck, |
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I'ma make you kiss the gun |
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And I ain't gon' stop until my justice done |
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What you wanna be labelled as, a coward or a duck? |
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What powder you cut, you wanted that building for what? |
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When you rep that building, what you said for that building |
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If it wasn't for me, you woulda been |
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DEAD in that building |
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You don't know what it feel like to say |
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I own that building |
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Get dough in that building, or control that building |
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You don't know that feeling, you ain't condone that killing |
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Cause when the cops came, you was like, "Shy in that building" |
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I remember the days when you was shook in them buildings |
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You in front of these buildings, frontin like you build them |
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When Scrams was home, you was on his dick |
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And you gave that bitch money cause you always been a trick |
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You know Shy |
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Da Kid, I'm back on the block |
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Bought the crack in the spot, spit back in the block |
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Fuckin clap at the cops, if |
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I'm rappin or not |
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Whatchu gon' do nigga? |
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Shoot or get shot |
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I'm hot on the block like new glocks out the box |
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All y'all fulla dope, at the bow(?) .. what? |
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Talib Kweli |
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Yeah yeah.. yo |
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Kweli, I'm rock this body and so forth and so on |
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You can get the dick, one to grow on or one to blow on |
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Bet you Quik get his dough on, |
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I spit kick the flow on |
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Got swift shit |
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I throw on, cause |
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I'ma leave what |
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I float on |
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Plus I get my roll on like |
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Baby and Mannie |
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Fresh After |
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I go on y'all niggaz'll never bust like tantric sex |
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The universal nigga that represent the planet best |
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How I manifest from |
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Brooklyn to |
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Los Angeles - people! |
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We hold this down like wherever you're from |
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Got my name all in your mouth like you pierced your tongue |
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Pimped the game so hard we leave them whores numb |
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The more I come, |
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Kweli, I'm bout to blow like |
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George Young |
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I'm the Don |
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Cheadle of rap, dope like arms and needles of crack |
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My lyrics attack and arm the people like gats |
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In Cali studios we rest the heat up on the console |
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Peep Hollywood niggaz who think it's sweet like |
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Comanco Claimin they gangster and street like they lookin for beef |
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But with a gun in they teeth they just |
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MC's lookin for beats |
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Y'all don't want trouble, we pop bubbles and flex muscle |
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Niggaz don't respect the lyrics, they respect your hustle |
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The industry is like |
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Kinko's, makin copies while you wait |
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And the people always scream for |
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NEW SHIT, like |
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Clue tapes |
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Y'all speed this in your face, slow down like |
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Screw tape |
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Cause as long as you rockin with |
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Quik, nigga you straight |