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Intro: Jeru The Damaja
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Yes yes
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Check it out right here now, knowhatimean?
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Henryville, the muthafuckin bitchez wit dikz
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That's in the midst,
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of the real brothers whose the true wonders
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Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that shit about this and this and that
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But fakin shit, I'mma drop it like this
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{Jeru The Damaja}
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Bad bitches and techs, and sound affects
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Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when shit get hec-tic
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Out in Brooklyn, too late you's a vick
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And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a bitch ass trick
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Pimps and players, no I'm not a hater
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Cuz I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain't pay her
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Shoutin youse a regulator,
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soft like C3PO, but pop shit like Darth Vader
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For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy
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Your booty, when shit get raw you Doo like Scooby
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I'm snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies
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And let it be known, I eat ya'll pussies like a porno movie
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Dutches, chins, and hips get twist
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Drop that bitch with a dick, and get a nigga like this
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Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel)
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You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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*bitch!*
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You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)
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*bitch!*
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{Lil Dap}
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You niggas are like East New York waste, spit in your face
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Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace
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It's like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club
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Spit it out, ya hoes know what this shit is about
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Bitchez wit dicks, and make a nigga mad as shit
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Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York
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Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around
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Cuz these whole motherfuckers, wanna round are town
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Thinkin they down, but dont know BK grounds
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*bitch!*
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Chorus
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{Miz Marvel}
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The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon
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Against half steppin, niggas is fake,
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I scope them first impression
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Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion
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And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection
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Ya eyes cross like an intersection
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You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix
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Sold your soul for it's weight in gold bricks
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Bitchez wit dikz, with chips like chicks
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Only talk with snares and tits
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In the time of revolution, be the first to submit
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Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit
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Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix
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Won't admit that their style is rip and counterfeited
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Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target
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Thrown into the bottomless pit, bitchez wit dikz
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Chorus
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(bitch! scratched over and over)
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-----------------
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Bitchez Wit Dikz
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Jeru the Damaja |