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Bootie Brown:
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Let me freak the funk,
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obsolete is the punk that talk more junk than Sanford sells
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I jet propel at a rate that complice their mental state
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as I invade their masquerade
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they couldn't fade with a clipper blade
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10 years in the trade is not enough, you can't cut it
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I let you take a swing, and you bunted
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for an easy out, I leave mc's with doubt
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of exceeding, my name is Bottie Brown and I'm proceeding, leading,
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they try to follow but they're shallow and hollow
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I can see right through them like an empty 40 bottle, of O.E.
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they have no key, or no clue
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to the game at all, now they washed up
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hung out to dry
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standing looking stpud, wondering why
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(why man?)
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it was the fame, that they tried to get
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now they walking around talkin about represent
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and keep it real, but I got to appeal
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cause they exisitng in a fantasy when holding the steel
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Slim Kid 3:
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rock a bye baby,
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listen to my heart pumping to a fine ravine
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of all things it's a vain of a shrine
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all missions impossible are possible, cause I'm
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heading for a new sector 365 days fron now, I'll
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wipe the sweat from my brow
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and each and every true will stick, or fall from the sky of my cloud nine
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from homies all the way to chics, no matter how fine
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cotrolling is a swollen way to wreck a proud mind
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you hold it in your hands and watch a man start crying
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tear after tear in the puppet man's hands
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every time you take a stance you do the puppet man's dance
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and the worlds at a stand-still
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deep in broken mansville, trapped in the moat with an avil, still
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killing yourself, and dogging ya health
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you ain't amphibious, so grab a hold of yourself
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Knumbskull #1:
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shit is-shit is ill, my flow still will spill
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toxic slick to shock you sick like electrocute
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when I execute, acutely over the rythym
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on those that pollute, extra dosages is what I gotta give em
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got em mad and tremblin
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cause I been up in my lad assemblin
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misslies, to bomb the enemy
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because they envy me, and the making of my mad currency
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currently I think we're in a state of an emergency
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cause niggas done sold their souls, and now their souls is hollow
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and I think they can't follow
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they can't swollow, the truth because it hurts
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this is how I put it down, this is my earth, my turf
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the worth of my birth is a billion, and you know what time it is
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I'm going to make a million
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-----------------
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Drop
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The Pharcyde |