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Intro:
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It's goona be that it's gonna be that shit
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Hook:
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Lounge homeboy you in the danger zone (x8)
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Verse 1:
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Keith Murray is this mic phychosis
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I break your best rappers off thousands of pieces
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I'm on some other shit splittin' wigs with my penmanship
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Kick flows harder then the music so feel in your head and chest
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And pass it to the next
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They gave me 5 mic checks and all due respect
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So please fill it up and check the anitfreeze
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Cause this nigga Keith drop mad degrees
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I launch tomahawk missles when I talk with permiscuesus
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Intelligence like Mr. Romp
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From New York unto the world over
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I walk MC's like Jesus walked on water
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As my airy frequency reigns through the galaxy
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I easily gets busy and takes 3
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I'm the nicest MC on this side of the pennisula
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Stuck in the perimeter like a ninja
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Hook
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Verse 2:
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The Def Squad MC's is shittin' on your new transmitters
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Not quiters now forgetters
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Runnin' deep like rivers (word 'em up) what is
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My delivers, which is, givin' crews the shivers
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I'm like a mad scientist with this son
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I concock some shit that'll bust the sun
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I got the stunky funky illest funk flow
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For the glamorous scandalous world of radio
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So how you want? Headcreads or ceelo?
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I gets root deep like cavity cretes
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Rockin' motherfuckers directly to sleep
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A tybarrious rebel without a pause for the cause
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And no claws the style is the son of noise
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Peace to the hardcore the outlaw raw
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Bug youngblood thugs, strong as ? 64 ounce jugs
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In the realms of the danger
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Hook
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Verse 3:
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Bust the contrast and how I forecast
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Supersonic hyperphonic goin' on that ass paragraph
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With the million dollar bionic metaphoric lyrical math
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Generating off the chronic
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By cooling in the dark path and the drug rath of the ath
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And the ill shit that I craft
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It's labeled as sick logic to the critics of the didicks
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But they don't know the half of the half
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The apperatus status of a maddisist
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I conqure up a new style puffin' ganja, over the hook
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Causin' more trama with my mouth then the stealth bomber
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Killing every style in the book
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Like it's goin' outta style tomorrow
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My style is coming from down south and cross yonder
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I drop the dope shit for masses and non-believers
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Like spiral passes to butter finger wide recievers
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As my photo type sound gays leis and hoes my style probe
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To the farthest reaches of the globe
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Payin' dues got me cockin' tools, you fuckin' fools
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I'm rippin' crew and no exception to the the god damn rules
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This is danger
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Hook
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-----------------
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Danger
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Keith Murray |