| A lot of rappers are wack, they cold booty from the buttcrack
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| Swingin skills to chill, that’s how I pay the bills
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| Funk blaster, tweakin bass like I’m Jimmy Castor
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| Model H3OC, plus another thousand
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| Kickin lyrics for ASCAP, brothers I be housin
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| Splittin publishin, gainin points, rappin back again
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| My unique style, and certain words, watch me make em blend
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| Manifest bandwidth, spread out, with computer data
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| Suckers don’t know, acute intelligence, what’s the matter
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| Solo fiend, I cut your legs with the guillotine
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| Snap back, rip utensils props in your paperback
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| Gettin rectums, doin jobs like I’m Dr. Giggles
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| Servin em well, I stop their anals up with pickles
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| With operation to give, the room an atmosphere
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| Cyclops will walk, Frankenstein still standin here
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| Watch the hand out the ground, Chiller
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| Chorus: Dr. Octagon (repeat 2X)
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| It’s wild and crazy.
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| The moon is out, tonight it’s time for experiments
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| It’s wild and crazy.
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| A fetus in the jar, I got the little baby
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| Two o’clock, still dark, my flashlight, huntin suit
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| Right in front of your building with live bear every year
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| Takin horns, from moose and wild bulls and capricorns
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| I got your face in the frame, inside the living room
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| While kids watch 13, I’m in the back scope and zoom
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| Sesame Street, you play that beat, I’mma step to Pete
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| With nuclear bombs, and word to mom, I’mma blow his arms
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| Six shot rhyme, my forty-four is made by Charter Arms
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| I put some diss in the steps, and damage all your reps
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| Get off the hooks in project style like Bernard Goetz
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| What’s the matter, kid you scared, come and do the bid
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| Inmates’ll damage your tapes, you’re nervous liftin weights
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| I open cell block C, go battle Mr. Silly
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| I don’t see nothin', I think, they raped the rapper, really
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| Walkin streets with shopping carts, a live alligator
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| Hold your pitbull back, let’s spend some money on the elevator
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| Your dog is bound to loose and have a funeral
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| You can call landlords, injects on my rent checks
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| Bug Man is back, you project people better watch their necks
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| Spittin flim-flam, rappers still smokin crack
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| Suckers get pantylined, and spots on the hiney crack
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| I do much work, on heavy stomachs like Levert
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| Put up some money, I bet my tools’ll make your rectum hurt
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| Black exposed em, for you don’t want to mess with me
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| I seek in your girl’s box, and cover your publicity
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| Sequence first, and drop the facts on DAT |