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Alright you guys, listen. |
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Right here I got some paper, |
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a toothbrush, |
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this is a lighter, |
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a bottle of beer, |
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this is a bottle opener, |
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and a pot from a kitchen. |
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(clears throat) |
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Alright you ready? |
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Lets go. |
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Aye, this doesn't sound quite right yet, |
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so Im'ma add some kicking snare just like this. |
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Ha ha ha ha. |
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And I got this guitar part, and I'm gonna play this guitar part over it like this. |
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You feeling that? |
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and we just leave that. |
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And why don't we, why don't we just bring in a lil' bass like this? |
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Pop Pop |
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Take the bass out right here. |
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And this is where we bring in the verse. |
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I can make a loop out of anything work |
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I'm just surprised you guys didn't think of this shit first... But f**k it! |
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You can't touch yours truly |
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You can hardly follow me |
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Much less move me, so |
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When I'm pumping the track |
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You punks in the back better jump when I ask you bastards |
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Yeah, you got it backwards and misconstrued |
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See I roll like the rat pack groups included |
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In the backpack with the gas mask in Munich |
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20 deep in a hatchback puffing Cubans |
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You wanna rap get the lab track cue, let's do this |
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But not on this track |
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You can't afford it stupid! |
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Somebody call for the doc quick |
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He's still on the street top |
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He gotta freaking stain on my high top Reebok's |
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Snatched off the velcro and choked him with it |
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My headphones rub my neck where I coach you chickens (baaaacock! ) |
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Machine Shop packs lots of tunes |
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Like Paul Wall mixed tapes leave you chopped and screwed |
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The mess too wild? |
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The yes boys popping their Gats (yaps?) |
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Yeah, can you hear me now? |
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Good get off my sac |
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Yo, MC am I |
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People call me Celph |
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I got the key to every young bitches chastity belt |
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You clicking even pussy |
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Better yet they beaver |
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I'm gonna leave it to ya heavy |
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With this nine millimetre |
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Yo I see you chillin' in that cherry beemer |
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Have you ever met a man with canary fever? |
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I ain't talkin' 'bout a piss colored diamond either, word |
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I'm eatin' birds outta sittin' on your finger |
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You can teach 'em how to speak |
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Say "Polly want a cracker?" |
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Take 'em to the beach |
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Play volleyball after |
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A little snack... champagne and pasta... |
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We don't gotta run fast girl |
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I know you got asthma |
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Yeah, sippin' on jack and diamonds |
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Blowing smoke rings |
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Chillin' with the pack of Heina's |
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Your hands to the sky |
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Get a crunk for fun |
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I'm so goddamn high |
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I could punch the sun |
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Oy... honestly I doesn't even matter if I use this voice |
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It'd still f**k up you and your boys |
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So piss off mate |
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See? I do what I want |
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Cause your whole bloody lots |
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Just a bunch of cunts |
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See right now Celph Titled supposed to be in the booth |
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But he's stuck inside a toilet getting ready to puke |
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And he drank a bunch of sisco, vodka, and rum |
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So Cheapshot's gonna drop Celph's verse |
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Here it comes |
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Find me in the sandwich |
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Gonna roll with the stutter |
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Rolling with a cutter |
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Abuse your mother |
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On a road trip to Barbados with their hoes |
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I'm a hoodrat with a Winnebago |
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I make dough |
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On the block where the bullies where raised to partier |
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You in Idaho grazing pastures getting busy |
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I don't hold acts unless for something get busy |
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On the ground I like the bear |
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And I stay my grizzly |
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Stay the f**k in the bathroom homie! |