| Dig the underground sound like an approaching earthquake
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| Golden State’s plate vibrate eights you chumps shake
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| We rock Crown City; |
| the sound get down with it
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| Swing the scepter’s soul the jesters know they bit it
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| I see them smile through argyle and good humor
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| But them ice cream 16 bars are rap tumors
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| But yo yo? |
| Ruminate cause things are getting great now
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| Hop the lake jump a train just to checkmate
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| How we make a pawn take a long pause and ain’t no moving back
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| One square at a time dropping dimes on the white and black
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| And we stay the course on this high horse moving in big «L"s
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| She may have a one track mind but she’s selling sea shells
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| Big power like «D» cells we retail the unexpected; |
| a little this, little that
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| Recipe’s perfected so if you see the hat then get set, Double-K,
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| rap breathing down your neck
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| It’s the «P», the funky lone-star strangers
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| Go for your buds; |
| we in the house, there’s danger
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| Tell the DJ to screw it, slow your body on down
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| Party on to the last word I mention the tension
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| All hip-hop, in back is the bass, droppin'
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| Under the street light coppin'
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| The funk now tell me what’s up
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| We on the mixtape, and do it for a fixed rate
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| Getting straight to it, no foreplay, just floor-play
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| So take your shoes off and thank your new boss, the workout gym
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| The brother ain’t slim, but I’m the thin line between funking and fronting
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| Come to your jam, eat the chips, grab the mic Double splitting and rip.
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| (heh heh, yeah, right)
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| «There ain’t no half-stepping,» that’s what I told Big Daddy Kane
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| And I’ll bet you somewhere, it’s still stuck in his brain
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| You can’t forget it, it’s a given, and we’re taking it back
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| Like Pack Jam, you’ll be like, «That jam was pumping.»
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| Old ladies be like, «That boy’s soul hold’s something.»
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| Latin brothers say, «Oído le, and let the jam play.»
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| It’s a down one, so when you see me walk up
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| And crown one, you can crown one (you can crown one)
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| You can’t take the crown. |
| Maybe from someone else, but not me. |
| (x2)
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| Can’t mess with these heavyweights, twisted for the track and late
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| Youth Explosion back cover made the funk levitate
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| You were posing like, «It's cool.» |
| Dude, we went and rocked your school
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| Master tools like Mr. K le catery the parlez-vous
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| Money making microphone, Maaco paints the Plymouth
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| Catch a vibe like Earl Scheib spray them till we finish it
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| Body shop and body rock and block party characters
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| Those seeming scared of the «P» are non-perilous
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| Cause he’s the terrible terrorist tearing through your cannabis
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| And Thes old man handled those grandstanding Los Angeles
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| Producers. |
| They’re superconductors with bumper crops
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| Grow them like I5 high-fives, brothers call them «? |
| props.»
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| Talk a lot but check to this like RCA puppies
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| We rock it for you ghetto fresh, we rock it for you yuppies
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| You talk a lot but check to this like RCA puppies… (we rock it)
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| That’s right, dog
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| (huh, check it out)
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| It’s the return of the one nation under a groover. |
| (mm hmm)
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| The young girl soother
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| The baby bad ?. |
| (alright)
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| I’m down with the maneuver, do it right to left
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| The hero in stereo, some call me Imperial
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| The baller without a 64 Impala
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| I can take the picture on a dollar, flip it, turn it make it holler back
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| Young and microphone thugging, come off that rap
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| You’re a BG tripping, and we them OGs bugging
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| Loving every minute of it, wouldn’t put nothing above it
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| Put them folks upstairs so they can feel the bass boom
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| Give the ladies waist room, wind up your boom-boom
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| Brought the funk out the tomb for the «Resurrection.»
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| Thes One and Double K of the 808 section
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| We arrange and conduct, you get the finished product
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| Jumping off the shelves, be the jam of the year
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| The «People Under the», stand clear it’s a world premiere
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| (Uh!)
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| You can’t take the crown. |
| Maybe from someone else, but not me. |
| (x4) |