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Brainstorm microphone napalm |
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This is it, words from a time bomb |
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Attack speed, fast as an |
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F-fifteenRaise the heat, light the gasoline |
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Overload, it might cause a blackout |
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Dead end, there's no chance to back out |
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Hit the tripwire, duck from the gunfire |
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Broken glass, screech'n car tires, bodies hit the deck |
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As I commence to wreck |
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Eject another clip and drip sweat |
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Face of danger, increasin' anger |
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Point blank, |
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I smoke another stranger |
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Grip the mic tight, |
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I see the brake lights |
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Hit the back door, |
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I lay down cross the floor |
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E's on the wheels, he makes the rubber squeal |
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Blood's on my gear from caps |
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I've peeled |
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About a block away |
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I sit up, look back |
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It wasn't nothin' but a microphone contract |
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Dressed in black, |
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I stalk my prey |
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Parabellum in a leather attache |
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Low tones |
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I speak, I speak to few |
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Just give me the money and who the **** to do |
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Four blocks away my aim's clean |
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Night scope on a silence carbine |
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Place my cross hairs on my vic's eye |
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Squeeze the trigger, watch the brains fly |
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Violent? Yeah, you could call me that |
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Insane? You're on the right track |
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But turn the sounds up so |
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I can stay amped |
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Do another crew and break camp |
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The only way |
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I sleep is in a cold sweat |
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You say I'm crazy? |
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You ain't see shit yet' |
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Cause I love to kill and kill for fun |
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The microphone goes off like a handgun |
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It's goin' down now grab your girl, hops |
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No excuses when the bodies begin to drop |
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Look in my face, fool, it look like |
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I'm playin' |
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Don't become another victim of mic slayin' |
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What's up? |
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You want your feet in some concrete? |
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I got some brothers that'll do you for gold teeth |
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But most the time |
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I move, I move alone |
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Take a bat, break your mother****in' dome |
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Shoot you dead in the face with a sawed off |
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One hundred ten degrees, ice don't get soft' |
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Cause I'm hard as they come, |
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I come correct |
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You can't handle the vandal hit eject |
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If not you better get out my face, sucker |
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Or else you better be a good bullet ducker' |
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Cause I'm a rip shop, tell that ass drop |
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Five O ice, yo **** a damn cop' |
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Cause I move hard and cold with a gangster stroll |
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Five thousand dollar suits and fly gold |
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Rolex, you can't fit no more diamonds on it |
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Pinky ring, worth a house, if |
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I decide to pawn it |
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What's up now punk? |
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You start to choke up? |
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You try to move on the ice, you'll get broke up |
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Midnight, time for a homicide |
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Showtime, somebody's gonna die |
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E hits the switch and thousands of volts connect |
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With the weapon that's in my fist |
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I see a sucka in the third row, tryin' to riff |
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A paragraph and a half he's stiff |
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I start bustin' off barrages ear high |
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Mothers grab for their children, tears fly |
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I'm like a psycho in the microphone zone |
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Speakers blown, mind gone, |
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I can't be touched |
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Once my lyrics begin to fly |
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Simple stage radiation could make you die |
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You got a prob nigga, you think your rep's bigger? |
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Hold your heard right there while |
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I squeeze the trigger' |
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Cause I'm a crazy mother****er, that's no joke |
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My favorite smell is the aroma of gunsmoke |
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I'm bustin' off another lyrical nightmare |
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Parents hate the ice, you think that |
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I care?Well, |
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I don't give a **** 'cause |
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I rhyme tough |
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Drop science, still bust the ill stuff |
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So now it's time for crime and the rhyme is mine |
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Track the movement hide from the punchline |
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I rhyme with quickness, microphone fitness |
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The assassinator stay off the shit list |