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You looking in the mouth of madness, skilled out since I had this
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I'm talking bout nothing but pure D badness
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My acceleration is compatible to a bima
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My pockets looking greener, from the funky cold medina
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Don't tell me bout the things that you done did cause I done did it
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Don't tell me bout the skins that you done hit, cause I done hit it
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And once I rock these, with a style that's cock deis
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Good God, I get the crowd together like knock knees
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Now, I don't act hard, I just mack hard
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Baggin' video looking honeys with the big back yard
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Yes lord, girls I'm gamin' leaving the microphone flamin'
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Throwing up hip-hop signs cause that's the set that I be claimin'
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Guerilla war fares for those who love to pull your card
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Grimies from Fort Green to Malcolm X Boulevard
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Now, if that's what you're hoping then it's the wrong things you're scopin'
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I may not rap bout slittin no throats but trust me kid I'll get you open
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Verse 2
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Here comes a taste of the rawness, like you never saw this
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Once I grip the cordless, my victory is flawless
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Chaos and havoc, lyrically psychopathic
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At times get pornographic, lord man I gots to have it
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Then I commit to hit you with this composite that's ultimate
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Too legit splendid come get wit' it for your comfort
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But then sloppily, rappers try to copy me
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Take pieces of my property, and use it all unproperly
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And probably, been focusing a while to copy my style
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But child what I'll compile is too versatile
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I'm too superior, it's sort of like comparing a
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Spanking new Desert Eagle to a rusty little derringer
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But skip the tool, let's try to deal here with the jewel
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That I'm droppin on you, now let me take you all to school
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You see, to graduate in hip-hop you must be smart
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And no you don't have to know how to paint to make your rhymes a form of art
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Poetry and literature is what makes this English fanatic
|
Now dig this, I drop science but still deal with mathematics
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And since I don't be dealing with what's considered a mystery
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I learned the dead presidents to pass American History
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Got my degree in rapology
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Hip-hop had to set me free, look mom, a real emcee
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So you want yours now, well don't get caught with your drawers down
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Cause word life, this industry is half corrupt just like the Dogg Pound
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Verse 3
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Rap godfather
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Oh goodness gracious, you better make it spacious
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For the vivacious, ostentatious, who feel courageous?
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I put it on them using my tongue as a sword
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But at times get broader than broad for those who insist to get floored
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Whatever it takes to see your nerve gone, and word born
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Black Caesar gonna get his swerve on
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My name should be referred to in medical terms
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Cause I get way up in the cut and I'm talking way worse than germs
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You like to chase it playin catch like Tom & Jerry
|
But on the contrary, I'd rather sip the Dom Peri
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Lay back in harmony, because it's so bizarre to see
|
That all the hard core rappers are slowly turning R&B
|
Well pardon me, you contradict yo'self, I see you not perfect yo'self
|
You like that type music yo'self, stick yo'self
|
What happened to black men of pride 몁uff men have died
|
Nowadays what's been applied, in hip-hop is genocide
|
That's when the rappers go get the clappers
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Can't you see they trying to strap us just to trap us, good god it's backwards
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One nation under a groove, that's how we move
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It's time to teach the youth get it together show and prove
|
Me no run with the gun or speak of none for action
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When you get done scream I'm the one, it looks like an illusion
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I deal with equality so never call my brethren son
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Yes mon, me got mad flava just like jerk chicken
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-----------------
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Terra N Ya Era
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Big Daddy Kane |