Yo, hard beats like this keep my mentality raw
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I G off C 4 lyrics to blow off them Lex door
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My tex-ture be the kind that explore
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MC's then blow em out, metaphor after metaphor
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I'm more wetter than your boy bigger
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So how you figure you can fuck with this rap unemploy nigga
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I should own a fly bitch house and a Benz
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But I got chickenheads criminals and broke friends
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that love to get in, keep the seventeen spinnin
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Pull out from my jaw linin, commence to split end
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Brains and body parts that motion couldn't picture
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Cause when I'm shittin niggaz hit mo decks than a skipper
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Mr and Mrs Howe, MaryAnne and Ginger
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Gilligan, you need the Professor to take the rigger
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waters out I got orders to kill em softly
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I wouldn't leave a trace if I died and police chalked me
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Who's the Boss G you better radio the walkie talkie
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For the Fatal Attract MC's that stalk me
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Got a big dick and your bitch click
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When I flip this I got more work than a olympic gymnast
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Bust it, I cut the mustard, on any track
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Milkier than Similak when I'm next up to bat
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("Redman is on the mic and I'ma..."
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"Dope motherfucker, yeah, you best ax somebody" -- Snoop)
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(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 8X)
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Fuck the talk I walk whatever I claim to do
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Knock a mule on her ass and turn her pussy black and blue
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You couldn't run up if your Fighter was Virtua
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I'm a round-the-clock lyricist, I sleep in my work boots
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It's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate
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It's a thin line between the trigger and the finger of a thirty-eight
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Deaths by far, my rap repatoire
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be the art of murderin makin it hard for you to spar
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We can chill and puff the ganja, but don't be mad when the
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Funk Doctor Spock smoke it with your baby mama
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Get off my dick and tell your bitch to come here
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Male groupies gettin shaky when I come from the rear
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Hah, that get on your nerve neighbor that play the
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music loud as fuck three in the mornin off a paper
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With mad Zul in the L-S-C
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In the downtown area, scannin the perimeter
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All my boos with the open toed shoes
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If you ain't gettin that pussy eaten right, let me show you
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Then let you taste these, this Brown Fox said
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Ain't No Nigga like the -- Funk Doctor Spock G
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(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 4X)
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As I dive into the crowd
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I wanna see who the fuck gettin loud
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Who da fuck runnin off at dey mouf?
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I let my nigga Fifty Cent knock that ass out
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Word bond, bitches talkin bout pourin out Cristal
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and Dom P they better stick to Sade
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Blackin out whylin, smackin out weaves
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Break niggaz cheap ass chains and medallions
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You're just a part time sucker in the game
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Shit is real motherfucker start namin names
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And if you name my name I whoop ass like Steven Seagal
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Give you Under Siege 2 without the fuckin train
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Let your brains hang from the 808 bang
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And if I wrecked your cipher then my Squad is to blame
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(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Erick Sermon 12X then fades)
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We'll be right back with some more funk shit
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for all you stankin asses after we pay these bills
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-----------------
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Yesh Yesh Y'all
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Redman |