| Came a long way to make that sound
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| Break through Earth from hallowed ground
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| Played with my blood to wear this crown
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| Brother Ali is back in town
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| World on my shoulder, weigh me down
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| Break through Earth from hallowed ground
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| Played with my blood to wear this crown
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| Uh, fact about it, I’m a force of nature
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| Leader of men, boss of my organization
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| I ain’t in to bein ostentatious
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| I offered the pages that caught a lot of y’all in the Matrix
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| Soon as I caught a break, I was off to the races
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| Invaded the remotest possible places
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| Seen it first hand, yeah it’s hard to explain it
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| I’ve been around the world, left my heart on them stages
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| They want your boy, all all on they faces
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| Hollered out a roar, they holla in amazement
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| I follow all the greatest, A-list, taste makers
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| That shaped this and they’re all innovators
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| I’m so firmly grounded in the basics
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| Yeah, dishonor, get pounded to the pavement
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| Dealin with the voice of the nameless, faceless
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| Face it, your participation ain’t gonna be painless
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| I won’t debate that I’m sort of a sadist
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| I use most your faces to sharpen my blade with
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| Combat takin place, not entertainment
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| Lives been lost, it’s a hostile arrangement
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| Uh, your eyes never spied where I’ve been
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| Low parts where the heights of rhymin
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| Back alleys where the dice is flyin
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| Darkness is tryin, the lights are blindin
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| Sheist environment, the nights are violent
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| Red beam silent, the siren’s cryin
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| Clean mighty tights or your life survivin
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| Nights where the roaches or mice might slide in
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| The highest you can climb is that limelight
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| And so downin on that mic meant fightin
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| Braggin rights are all that you rhyme with
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| Can’t stand to see all your pride get sliced in
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| When the spotlight hit, my shit, y’all just
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| Bet I’m a stomp this motherfuckin party 'til it’s cold and lifeless
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| Close your eyelids, behold the righteous
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| It’s cold as night gets
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| There was a standoff
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| And there’s like a Russian dude, a old, black pimp dude
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| Some gangsta black dude, some Armenian dude
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| Like a motley crew, literally
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| Like a weirdo but street, angry, grown ass men
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| Against me and Dibbs and Art and the God Loves Ugly crew
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| And it’s like a line and I walk in between 'em
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| And I just start goin off
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| Like Cause, Blood, like mother, fucker
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| I’m a get on the phone and I’m a make everybody cry
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| I’m just talkin crazy, I’m mad, this is my hometown
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| I’m about to call the homies
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| But you know like the old pimp dude had a piece or somethin
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| Like a gun or somethin
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| And it was about to jump off
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| And then he goes like «oh, ain’t you Brother Ali?»
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| Brother Ali, you a bad motherfucker man |