| Yo, keep in the street let the groove stay rough
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| Rougher than rough, ignorance is enough
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| On the media tip, so that the read must grip
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| On reality, don’t let 'em gas up your mentality
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| This style started from the essence
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| Not the magazine, Maybeline Cold Cream Afro-Sheen tip
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| Comin deep into the soul cause I mean it
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| Disciples of pop want to redeem it — nope
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| I don’t know why, why is that
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| Why must I, chase the cat?
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| Nothin but the dog, in me
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| Continue you just gonna, fall in the
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| Midst of a hip-hop blitz with a trip
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| Back to the batter to the Gladys of the Pi-dup
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| Watch me ri-dup, all
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| Type of TV screens movie type scenes
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| Just like blues, hip-hop paid dues
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| Dues can be recouped if you act souped
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| Makin pop beats, so keep it street
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| Block party, nineteen-eighty-one
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| People havin fun, no one with a gun
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| No ducats, you pay nothin at the gate
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| You escape to the sounds of a Cold Crush tape
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| In your back pocket, rap is always clocked then
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| Jump on the Realistic mic then rock it
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| No clock don’t stop until mother nature says
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| No conflict between usual knuckleheads
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| That didn’t affect the morale of the crowd
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| Just those kids pumped the set up loud
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| Nowadays, our appearance is a big part of it
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| Everybody wants a Mr. T starter kit
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| Hip-Hop has always been you have a beef
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| With another man step to him, and throw ya hands
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| Come back and dance to the rhythm
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| Of a James Brown beat — and keep it street
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| «Children grow and women produce
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| and men go work and some go steal it!»
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| «Children. |
| children grow and.
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| children.»
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| In nineteen-ninety you will get another treat
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| That’s harder than concrete, unique don’t compete
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| Lyrical format uses your rep as a doormat
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| You shoulda come sooner if you wanted to kick a rumor
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| Never try to jest unless you like your flesh
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| All scarred, ripped and done hard
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| Cause kid you don’t realize, that in my part of town
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| You’ll get killed if you wanna act a clown
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| Grab your heart, play your part and pledge allegiance
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| School’s in, so let’s begin, your first readings
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| Open your book, here’s a number two pencil
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| Feel the vibe of a Chubb instrumental
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| No pop tunes only rough street beats
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| You can sample butt-snagger Mick Jagger
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| I’ll stay with my crates and make dope beats
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| And I’ll keep it, definitely keep it street
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| Peace! |