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What I write in a verse is like magic tricks |
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Copperfield, grab your chick, cop a feel |
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Cock the Glock for real, give you some cop appeal |
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Dynamite vest, nah ain't stressing nothing |
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With a smiley face sticker on my detonator button |
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Haters ask, "Is he bluffing? " or, "Is he bugging? " |
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I don't know but I don't fuck with weed with the seed stuffing |
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What I blaze gets me oh so higher |
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Burned more white widow smoke like an old folks home (on fire) |
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I make change cha-ching, I can hang a playground |
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From a charm you should see the way my chain swings |
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You got the balls to diss? Won't have em afterwards |
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Cause when I rap contenders get killed after all my words |
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I'm tired of all you rapping nerds trying to critique my shit |
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Like I ain't the motherfucking master of the baddest verse |
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Celph Titled and the AOTP alliance will travel back in time |
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Smack you, have your baby teeth flying |
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[Verse 2: Jus Allah] |
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I am Rob Zombie, I am the omni of dishonesty |
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I'm a prodigy and atrocity |
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Not a lot of promise in me |
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Positively not a drop of modesty |
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My philosophy is the policy |
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I believe in nothing |
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Try teaching a beast peace and loving |
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Juggling, my beliefs need re-adjusting |
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My life with sticks and rocks |
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Kick, punch, block |
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It was not a box of butterscotch and soda pops |
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I have filled a plot of mud, spilled a lot of blood |
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Watch the drops dripping flood, hit the top stud |
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I have crashed a lot of waves, dug a lot of graves |
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Drunk a lot of grapes, I have fucked a lot of babes |
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I'm do not disturb, I have touched a lot of nerves |
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Struck a lot of curbs, I have cut a lot of curves |
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You are none of the above, push come to shove |
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You're all motherfucking puppy love and country clubs |
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[Verse 3: Apathy] |
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Y'all motherfuckers ain't running shit, y'all are simply runaways |
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I walk the surface of the sun while you're rocking stunner shades |
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I'm in Hell shoving flames while you're sweating summer days |
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I'm the son of Satan, son of Sam, sicker some will say |
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Got a flow so cold that I could blow the sun away |
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Even if I kick a free someone still gonna pay |
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You could get blasted, body in a funeral casket |
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And cops searching for deoxyribonucleic acid |
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Slay the fascists, Pharaoh fans pray for classics |
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Come through in Raiders jackets to make this magic |
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I'm a holy man, Voodoo priest, rebel that'll shoot police |
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You wake up from this nightmare and change your little doodoo sheets |
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Skeleton crusher creature from the cryochamber |
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The naughty nasty trashy microphone annihilator |
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It's AP apparently you motherfuckers miss me |
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Some dude tried to diss me now that kid's history |
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[Verse 4: Planetary] |
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Now you see it's misery, I heard it needs company |
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Who the fuck else wanna bleed in their Dungarees? |
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Planetary man, the evil rap Desert Eagle |
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Clap all your people get ready for the sequel |
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Needle set to vinyl, now it's time for your final thought |
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What's your last wish? You's a minor fined in court |
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Twenty-five to life, rap electric chair |
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Spit a sicker syllable, nigga slash like the slayers hit you |
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Get the picture, this a Kodak moment |
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Mo Yak flowing, pussy, bet your throwback on it |
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I'm a break bread only if the bread ain't stale |
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Take young niggas to school, I heard school's like jail |
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This is punishment government shit that you fucking with |
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Esoteric, I told him in swords drawn and dump the clip |
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Hear the battle cry piling up the dead soldiers |
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Know to tear it down, we get it down, the blood runs colder |
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[Verse 5: King Magnetic] |
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Do the drive-by, hop out the wheel like caged hamsters |
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Rage amped up, hammer time without the stage dancers |
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I really doubt we killing it the same |
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I'm Magic before retirement, illest in the game |
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Diligently aim at targets without the Pizza Hut express shit |
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Put em in a long box like bread sticks |
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Then dip marinara with garlic |
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Marijuanaholic, carry arms like you're sidekick |
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Show 'em the whole and drop it |
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Your show's supposed to be monstrous |
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Only known for obnoxious |
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Knowingly holding most of them hostage |
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No one closer to top ten |
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Coka Nostra and Rakim roast the most of the Pac shit |
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Overdose with the prophet |
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Hold him over, don't drop him, watch us |
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Nonsense and dont slow up the process |
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Hate on my project, lay you unconscious |
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Screaming on the phone like you won a radio contest |
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[Verse 6: Vinnie Paz] |
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The only fucking thing I love is my long knife |
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The .45 cal click, pow, put you on ice |
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Before the devil know you dead you should call Christ |
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All I hear is barking out y'all, a real dog bites |
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If you wanna split the tribe you should call Fife |
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I'm the real father of creation of God's life |
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LeBron in the beginning of the game, yeah I toss white |
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Calm at the beginning of the pain, Dalai Lam-like |
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Then I put your fucking brain in a strong vice |
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Eat your liver over fava beans and some warm rice |
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Y'all motherfuckers head cracked like I toss dice |
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Vinnie taking all your money like a divorced wife |