| Turn your speakers up money!
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| Yo God! | 
| (Yo God?)
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| Yo I got mad skills
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| Isn’t that money?
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| New York New York big city of dreams
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| And everything in New York ain’t always what it seems
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| You might get fooled if you come from out of town
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| But I’m down by law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound
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| It’s the incredible, the lyrical
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| You can’t be me like Niecey, to see me is gonna take a miracle
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| I’m driving motherfuckers hysterical, with a
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| Touch of this twister, stylistic mixture
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| What I create pulsates, there is no escape
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| Annihilate your mental mindstate
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| Dre labels my vocabulary abusive
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| I packs more knowledge than Confucius, I’m deadly
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| Induce you like Medusa, with thoughts to shed
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| And niggas throughout this hemisphere, far and near
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| Prepare, catch me chillin' like the winter
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| Up against the number one contender, as I enter
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| Cause I gets heated like friction
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| Motherfuck your whole jurisdiction, react this fact not fiction
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| Telepathic addiction, to this homicidal recital
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| Dangerous and vital to all my rivals
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| Suicidal, brainwaves conveys
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| Through the average motherfucker’s minds these days
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| I’m all ready to put work in
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| Take ten steps and turn to shoot the first nigga smirking
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| Give a FUCK, what’s your name, what you claim
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| Or why you came, motherfucker
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| Don’t explain
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| Simply, don’t tempt me, cause I’m simply
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| Leavin hoes lives empty, the invincible MC
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| New York New York big city of dreams
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| And everything in New York ain’t always what it seems
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| You might get fooled if you come from out of town
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| But I’m down by law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound
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| Too much, I serve too many people, too much
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| It’s too much, I serve too many people
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| And when I finish servin ain’t gon be no sequel
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| Gimme a couple G’s, for every MC, I knocked to his knees
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| Verbally useless, oh you got the juice? | 
| I squeeze you juiceless
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| The barbaric, versatile, you’re no kin to me
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| So how the fuck you inherit my style?
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| Now, out the clear blue sky, I can’t deny
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| Not a day goes by, don’t get high, don’t ask why
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| Tonight’s the night for me to rip microphones
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| Into bits and pieces lyrical telekinesis
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| Gets me into verbally vindictive
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| Violent vocabulary bobs to existence
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| Catch me in the pitch black path
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| I sit and let the sick thought pass through my mental
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| Till I hear an instrumental
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| And detrimental verbals get to spittin
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| The highest in intellect, try connectin with the written
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| Now they faced with the forbidden, vocally chosen
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| To explore new terrain, then remain unseen, throughout the war
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| Dips like a low-low, with my verbal fo'-fo'
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| The cocoa complexion MC with the slow flow
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| Fo sho', I takes it to you from the do'
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| Motherfucker, mentally I go hardco' (you know!)
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| I disconnect ya, Kurupter, MC to vocally
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| Void your whole molecular, structure
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| Catastrophic, mystic as Mixelplix
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| Hittin MC’s like pits the deadliest lyricist
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| New York New York big city of dreams
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| And everything in New York ain’t always what it seems
 | 
| You might get fooled if you come from out of town
 | 
| But I’m down by law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound
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| Too much, I serve too many people, too much
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| It’s too much, I serve too many people
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| And when I finish servin ain’t gon be no sequel
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| We live… tonight I serve two thousand MC’s
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| We live… cause can’t none fuck with the DPG’z
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| We live (baby) because tonight I serve two thousand MC’s
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| We live (baby) none can fuck with the DPG’z
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| A-B-C-D-P-G-C, ba-by
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| Ba-by…
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| Eryday, I bust rhymes and recite
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| In ways that make MC’s stop in daylight
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| I’m the deadliest MC you wanna see on the streets
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| Invincibility is what makes
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| Me complete, compete
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| Nah you can’t even fade me
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| I fuck, you, your momma, your auntie, and your lady… |