"There's a bulletin - state police, Princeton Junction"
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"The militia...
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Certain individuals of unidentified nature
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is now under complete control"
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"Hip-hop is not, what it is today.."
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"It's the real *echoes*... it's the (militia)"
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Verse one: Big Shug
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If heads only knew how I felt about the rap game
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They'd relocate, and change their fuckin name
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I eradicate movefakers, roll with coat shakers
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Give dap to mad money makers
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Shared cells with lifetakers, have sex with rumpshakers
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I make moves so I'ma earthquaker
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I've been known to instill fear
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Although the world may be round, we still trapped in the square
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City light, got me buggin and trife
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Some die by the gun, some die by the knife
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It's alright, like a game of spades I'm trump tight
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Premier hit me with music to ensure that it thump right
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And my flight, will be taken solely at night
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Cause that's when the freaks come out, no doubt
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And in the dark hours is when I will shower
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with the knowledge of my trade to get paid
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Still I make moves like a snake in the grass, roundabout
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I be dickin it down while you be assed out
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Puff mad L's but never passed out
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And if I'm caught up in a jam I blast my way out
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There'll be no lettin up, just straight shuttin up
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or we'll start the wettin up
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Lyrical infrared sceptor never miss you
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Big Shug, Guru, Freddie Foxxx, The Militia, militia
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Chorus: Freddie Foxxx
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Everybody's spittin it, the rhyme is hot
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Cause it's Big Shug, Guru, and Freddie the Foxxx
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When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop
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It's The Militia *echoes*
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Chorus
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Verse Two: Guru
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Yo; I ain't one to succumb to no man, but to command
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And scoop up the troops when it's time to take a stand
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Emphatically, deep strategies leave casualties
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I creep gradually, til everybody knows
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that I got more flows than Rosebud got hoes
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The anger inside had me trapped
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til I got geared up with raps to tear you up like big gats
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for big stacks, watch your back when I send em in
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Caught you tremblin, my name and face you're rememberin
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Several attempts, but nah bitch, you'll never win
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Rhymes pierce your skin or maybe limbs we'll be severin
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Take you to the mat, peep that, you should keep back
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My ill-kid format will lay you flat like a doormat
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that I walk on, I meditate while you talk on
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And gossip, so I drop my hot shit; fully loaded glock clips
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So get the fuck out my block, kid
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As nights turn to days, days go back to nights, we be speaking it right
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And keeping it tight up in the street life
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I meet life, head on, no holds barred
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Born with a heart of gold, now mostly cold and scarred
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En guard, choose your weapon, or get to steppin
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Lyrical bullets make you dance from the trance you be kept in
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Assessments are made before, and during combat
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I master my hunger, blow the spot when I bomb cats
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One of us, equals many of us
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Disrespect one of us, you'll see plenty of us
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Conflict, is what I predict
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You and your fellas is mad jealous, attempting to flare
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We cleverly stalked ya, your fam'll miss ya
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The war's on, that's why we formed The Militia
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Chorus
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Verse Three: Freddie Foxxx
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You niggaz owe me for my rhymes, I come to collect
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For you dope fiend niggaz in rap, I here to inject, check
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My style is butter baby, spread it around
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But when you niggaz don't flow it right and fuck up my sound
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I get down; in '89 I spit the buck in the face
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of every MC that came in the place, a scar you'll never erase
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MC's are only recognized for their flows
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I'm worldwide for the bitches, that I turned into hoes
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You heard me spit it on Jew-elz, that's how it goes
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For all them faking ass niggaz and how I bust up they nose
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And while your, nose is drippin, and drainin blood
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I be standing over you screamin, "Nigga, WHAT, WHAT?! Nigga WHAT?!"
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Niggas feel my presence, like I'm right in they palm
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Cause a stormy day is coming, when you see me so calm, it's on
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No more twin glocks, they jam up my plays
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Now its twin .40 calibre Walther PPK's
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I'm in the control of my game, you must respect me like The Ref |