| I’m in the schoolyard rhyming with my brother Jamel and Ra’Allah
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| Vibe and took the beat, and imagining how far
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| The sound travel at the turn of the volume
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| It could shake the gravel, before we heard the loud boom
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| It vibrated through the parking lot
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| Shattered a few windshields, set off a sparking shot
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| The local UPS cat, but we didn’t stress that
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| He had a slow leak, front tire almost flat
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| I got a cousin think he slicker than the oil in the chain
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| But I live in an arcade, surrounded by game
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| He used to pass me bucks, trying gas me up He was a fast talker, and he kept a flashy cut
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| From a spot that was on Malcolm X Boulevard
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| Where this magician, wishing I would pull a card
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| An optical illusion, and whose hands were quick
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| But wasn’t fast enough not to reveal his trick
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| Who be the first to set it off and just begun
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| Turn up the heat until the track is done
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| And we roll together as one
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| Yes, I call my brother son, cuz he shine like one
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| (Justice Kareem)
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| Mass hysteria inside the cafeteria
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| (Not a food fight, but the news might) beat your area
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| Whether by word of mouth, or if you read about it
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| (Extra extra, they firmally shouted)
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| (The drummer played the beat on) the table
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| His boy kicked a verse, like he was the first (and I wasn’t able)
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| More prepared to let off anything substantial
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| (If I had no rhymes and my planes was cancelled)
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| Picture that, before you give your bag and expose it
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| (Couldn't develop the color, wonder why he chosed it)
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| (See less than the worst competition, to the point)
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| I only use one ear to listen
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| Was it something I’m missing (the food is getting cold)
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| The corners about to flake (as soon as I flip the bowl)
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| (See the rhyme ain’t worth the less tooken)
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| Wasted time of mine (plus the temp cooked it) |