| I’m not your average type of rapper, with the verbal chit-chatter
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| I hit matter, making your whole backbone shatter split
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| Then turn around like that old-school type of break
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| And the earth shaking with the beats that Herbalise is making Freaking turn up
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| my level 'til the shit starts speaking
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| Coming for the ass, like I miss on the heat sinking
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| I reckon I got you out double-checking the sleeve
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| Wish my songs extended like some chickens with weaves
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| I pass on the cash, don’t skip in my stash on
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| The brainwaves setting my path to straight days, I hate that
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| Wait, it seems that the negative views
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| Got these fools going out for green, cloth and jewels
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| Tools to stimulate the mind, I keep polished like silver shine
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| Making the bottle up of emcees quiver
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| I can’t deliver whole songs with no curse
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| Sendin' rappers on their way like 60 segregated buses
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| Bring it on if you wanna
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| The rap style’s gonna
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| Hit ya back, split ya
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| Take ya back to the under
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| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya back to the under
|
| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya back to the under
|
| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
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| Hit ya back, split ya
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| Take ya down to the under, now
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| I bring it while ocean sips it singing
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| Ain’t nothing in, vibrating ears 'till they start to ring it
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| Circulates like a centrifuge
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| Sometimes I pronounce names wrong like
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| I go the extra mile just to catch
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| Or brains without the aid of a TEC
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| Emcees putting protection like some worms and some
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| Running lines like tip-saying, lyrical worker
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| sorta version of this if it’s on this
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| Coming cleaner than or a box of
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| now, ain’t that terrible
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| Bite my rhyme style, crunch delicious, it’s edible
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| I’m incredibly nice, the mic device feedback twice
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| Resurrecting the skills like Christ
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| I don’t blaspheme, I just say what my ass means
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| Take it the wrong way and get hit with the blast, fiend
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| For cash if you wanna, the lead team of runner
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| Spoke and scam to have your crew taken down in under
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| Energy’s potentially kinetic, your style’s pathetic
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| Claiming self understadin' but you just don’t get it
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| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya back to the under
|
| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya back to the under
|
| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya back to the under
|
| Bring it on if you wanna
|
| The rap style’s gonna
|
| Hit ya back, split ya
|
| Take ya down to the under, now
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| I break the microphone with the superfly delicious hyper tone
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| Enter the writer zone, bugging light when I riding on
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| Now we can do this any way you wanna bring it
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| I rhyme, scratch, produce or even sing it
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| I caress the mic, finesse like The Lord
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| Blessed pens to write verse, strike back like a light sword
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| Hittin' the chord, pseudo lyricists will get floored
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| You can’t swing it, and If you think so
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| Then bring it |