| «This ain’t a blast from the past, it’s a boomer from the future» — E. Sermon
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| And ya don’t stop!
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| «This ain’t a blast from the past, it’s a boomer from the future» — E. Sermon
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| And ya don’t stop!
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| Yo, pitchin' the mission, itchin' for niggas to mention
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| These rhymes don’t catch attention, incidental composition
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| But alas I kick that pro rap, boogie for the rookies
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| Who can’t adapt fully, basically that shit be bull, see
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| Yeah, this track be pullin' me like gravitation
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| Collaboration with the Artifacts, bustin' on this Lord Finesse creation
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| Causin' heart attacks and palpatations
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| Amalgamation like steel, we calibratin' mics to keep it real
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| I feel blessed by Finesse and Lord Jamar, sess my interest
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| Is invested in, testin' men like lab specimens
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| My daily regiment of elemental babble
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| Keeps MCs rattled, I’m breakin' my words up like Scrabble
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| Not the type to try to ever diss, lyrically, clearly the cleverest
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| Don’t front, we blow your spot like the terrorist
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| We do our thing and stand strong like Mt. Everest
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| The 'Facts, Lord Jamar, Finesse bringin' terror kids
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| «This ain’t a blast from the past, it’s a boomer from the future» — E. Sermon
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| «Ya best to get your groove on, or get moved on» — Fat Joe
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| And ya don’t stop!
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| (repeat all 4X)
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| The new procedure is to keep a straight face like Mona Lisa
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| When we beat you with the speech
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| We break down and decipher the rap codes in any zip code
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| Now watch us flip the mode like our shit went gold
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| Bar playin' stars get scarred and left salty
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| By the terror with more L’s than Laverne loose in Milwaukee
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| Good Son like Macaulay Caulkin', stalkin' and walkin'
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| I express best when smokin' sess with a good Walkman
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| I’m breakin' rappers into pieces, the Black Jesus
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| Attack your system like diseases lyrics for the ninety-six releases
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| Find me in the mix, where the trees is
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| Puffin L’s in threes, tryin' to make G’s kid
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| Studyin' degrees, livin' lovely with my universal family
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| Rollin' in the MPV, makin' beats on the MPC
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| Understand and add, triple cipher
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| Niggas be crippled without some weed and a lighter
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| «This ain’t a blast from the past, it’s a boomer from the future» — E. Sermon
|
| «Ya best to get your groove on, or get moved on» — Fat Joe
|
| And ya don’t stop!
|
| Uhh, check it
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| It’s the grand hitter, that’s stands bigger in your transistor
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| That’s historical like your late great ancestor
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| Ain’t no hurtin' me, certainly, personally
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| This verse’ll be the hottest shit out since Mercury
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| Check it, I deserve respect child because I project styles
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| More mysterious than the X Files
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| I can build and expand on it
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| Some got 'Five on It', fuck it, I got a hundred grand on it
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| Really y’all niggas feel me when we step on the spot
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| Lyrics on cock, stroke and pop, open crews that’s hopin'
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| That the punishment ceases MC with masterpieces
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| Out to burn so learn, and check this fat thesis
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| X’s and O’s, diagrams, shit to flow
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| Cram expertise the bro, nigga from the East so
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| As we start to shine, brothers get the dick
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| Lyrical spit for crews who can’t fuck with it
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| «This ain’t a blast from the past, it’s a boomer from the future» — E. Sermon
|
| «Ya best to get your groove on, or get moved on» — Fat Joe
|
| And ya don’t stop! |