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* slight variation between the original and the re-release in song title
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Intro:
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One two one two check one two
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The Genius in the place to be
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Verse One:
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I make the mic pump my mic makes the party jump
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And poison beats make hip-hoppers stump
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their feet kinda wild, to give off sparks
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But I'll still light it up when the place is pitch dark
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Now that you witnessed me this get this correct, rap wreck
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when I'm speaking it's the God projecting
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facts into brains of those unaware
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Now you're afacing the truth in the square
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Bitties like biting, then yo you should chew this
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Your man wants to beef, then we can do this
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Then when it's time for you to face the God
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I'll be giving you the whole nine yards
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With lyrics that breaks the laws of gravity
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So sweet to biters it gives them cavities
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And can't be healer from the strongest toothpaste
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So keep biting to see how the truth taste
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You need guidance and self-assistance
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Cause you lack the training to go the distance
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But I'll rhyme, to the fullest length
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And this is just a fraction of the strength
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Chorus:
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of the Genius
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Words from a Genius
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Verse Two:
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I'll never sweat an MC then say I wanna be him
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Cause he makes a hit records and flips a coliseum
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I learn to lead myself, not be a follower
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I'm not a biter, stupid rhyme swallower
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I created something funky fresh funky new
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Brothers started playing money see and monkey do
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Should I explain hip-hop, okay I love it
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Simple definition but ya still don't know the half of it
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All I need is a mic, a beat, then I'll step free
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And flip like I'm bugging off Bacardi and Pepsi
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Dancers on stage like Alvin Ailey
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While I'm deep into the roots like Alex Haley
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You wanna try me, and be worn and torn
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Step forward, I'll get on and start to born
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A pumpin self explanator rap
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Make a sucker MC like you clap
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your hands, while you clap the sound's intact
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You react like an infant respons to Similac
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Or then again, could have been Enfamil
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But for your information the rhyme is real
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MC's wonder what's hip-hop thunder
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Tell you the truth it's just One Nation Under
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A Groove, getting down for the funk of it
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Like Fred Sanford in the business for the junk of it
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When I'm premitted to break down a poem
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I'm like knotty hair rippin out teeth from a comb
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One by one so who you calling your troops on
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Ya couldn't even bust a grape, with spike boots on
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Biters are crooks and try to steal the stage
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I read em like books, flip em and turn the page
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I'm The Genius, you're living in deep fear
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Go home and write and come try me next year
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With stacks of rhymes or you'll be feelin ill troop
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You being stuck in the ice cream and didn't know the scoop
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Chorus (2X)
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Verse Three:
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Some say The Genius, has a style of his own
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And his hands are like Vise-Grips holdin a microphone
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Flowin smooth, with rhymes that are rough
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Because I can't get enough
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So I practice not what I preach but what I teach
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In which the critics say is improper speech
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But it's proper, only to those who understand
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Why I walk on stage with a mic in my hand
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As brothers look on, label me as a psycho
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Just because I'll jump on stage and grab a micro-phone
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From a so-called said to be MC
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Who admires me with jealousy and envy
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My rhymes are delivered with style and potential
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Words are flowin smoothly in a sequential
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Order, revealin hidden tape records
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Stuffed inside pockets and those I'll slaughter
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But I don't get upset, when you bite and steal
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I go home and write some ill
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Stacks of poetry, page after page
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Imagining the scen-ery onstage
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I catch flash-backs of the seminar
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As I crush the dreams of a wannabe star
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Self-explanatory words are shifted
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In a unbitten style cause I'm gifted
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and talented, with the lyrical ability
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Bound to fuck up a hip-hop facility
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Damaging MC's who dare to enter
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The center, then challenge the inventor
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Of an impartial rhymin status
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Followed a relevant apparatus
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The way I come off on the mic is attractive
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I can make a quadriplegic hyperactive
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With lyrics of friction causing mics to spark
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My style couldn't be bitten by |