Feel me, I bet you've never seen a nigga that get raw like me
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Gun in your face, put niggas on the floor like me
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Who go to war like me? Flip a whore like me?
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Put the squeeze on rap competitors like me
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Get less and make more like me
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Hunt a nigga down like the Predator like me
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Keep the Macs in the drawer like me
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How many niggas really raw to the motherfucking hardcore like me?
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It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, I got lyrical styles forever
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My endevor is to smash you punk motherfuckers
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I do it to young niggas, old niggas, rock niggas, soul niggas
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Scared niggas, bold niggas, since '89 I told niggas
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I'm still ripping with this timeless shit
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While you niggas spit that offbeat rhyming shit
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My life is full of hard times and shit
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So all I rhyme about is whooping niggas asses and crime and shit
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Who got the hardest MC style ever created?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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I spit the murder one verse that's for the thugs that be thuggin'
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Freddie Foxxx be busting nuff slugs at who be bugging
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I get it everywhere that I go, thug loving
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Cause it's fatter than Star Jones and Rosie Huggins
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I've been lyrically inclined since I thought about a rhyme
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Plus I knew the only thing I couldn't kill was time
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So I started a long ten-year climb doing mine
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While them fake niggas stay in a rush to stay behind
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Bum bit, I spit the flames til the mic's set afire
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I'm a fighter not a crier, don't care who you hire
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Kill your street team, burn your flyers
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Niggas need Jacoby & Meyers for being liers, now feel me
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Calling major labels, tell 'em Bumpy Knuckles is in town
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Tell 'em don't send no rappers out or I'm a bust 'em down
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It's the king of the underground sound, get ready for the Industry Shakedown
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Yo Pete, break it down
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Who got the hardest MC style ever created?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?
|
(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Yo get the fuck up out my face, B, I'm an MC
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Not some fake-ass rapper kissing ass at the Gavin
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Asking how can he be down, I make impact
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Like the four-pound slug ripping through a nigga cap
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I guarantee that, now here's a fact
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Niggas ain't selling records, let alone a key of crack
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You stare at me too long, B, your ice grill will melt down to water
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And I check you like I check my daughter
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Now turn it up, it's the pit amongst mutts, huh, I'm off the chain
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Off the pen or off the brain, I bring it to you niggas
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Like I'm fucking insane, huh, you heard it pop
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Now you snitching like Colin Fergueson at Comstock
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You ain't a thug, B, I'm rougher than rugby
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The real niggas tolerate you, but the thugs love me
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Bitches in every city want to hug me
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A nigga would rather shoot his fucking self before he ever slug me
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Who got the hardest MC style ever created?
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
|
Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?
|
(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
|
Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?
|
(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated
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(Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)
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Bumpy Knuckles Baby
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Bumpy Knuckles |