| Yeah…
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| Yo Jay…
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| Let’s take 'em back on some real deep underground shit, black…
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| I’m O.C. |
| baby, what the fuck y’all thought? |
| →O.C.
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| Post-dramatic, thoughts automatic
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| Breath control is intact even though I’m astmatic
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| This a brand new era, now I see things clearer
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| I keen, sin in my life, ignorin so called killers
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| Mastered the art of war without involvin the broads
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| Much wiser than your average rhyme sayers (uhh)
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| I forgot to introduce myself, as if y’all didn’t know
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| O.C. |
| be the name, same shit, different toilet
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| Last line was like a chorus, I spit thoughts in orbit
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| Circlin planets, come back and see the man in office
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| I’m precise like surgeants, when they cuttin through anatomy
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| Description when I’m spittin be intelligent insanity
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| material, correct
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| Ever since I came in the door, O.C. |
| was well respected
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| I’ll make a beat of elements formin this from the periodical table
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| I’m beyond the walls of intelligence
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| Beyond the walls of intelligence →Nas — N.Y. State Of Mind
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| I prescribe antidotes with lyrics, similar to a chemist
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| Nor what to put in out to put, mine it work like an octopus
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| With eight arms, sixteen bars of arm
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| Make up a hundred-twenty-eight bars of darts (Yeah, do the math)
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| I compose theatrical bloodbaths
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| It’s a rare situation rappers wanna do collabs
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| I respect a chosen few, it goes without sayin
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| With O, put in my time now my aim is to blow
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| Even if I sell passgold this time around I’m like
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| a stranger in the town, not many raws, I make it right and move on
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| (Intelligence) (Intelligence) (Who will use wits to be a remainder)
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| Servin 'em love like tennis, scarred is my witness at this very moment
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| My poetry crush opponents, aiiyo I fear no omens
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| Yeah, I lost love once in my lifetime, to blow off steam I write rhymes
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| Phenomenal speak jewels to reach some fools
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| Learn now and not later from people, it’s bad news
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| Dog, I fail to prevail, in this game called life
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| No such thing as perfection while you live life
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| O.C. |
| and JS One, prodigal sons
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| On some Pete Rock and C.L. |
| Smooth shit (ooh yeah)
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| Yo check, I’ll make a beat of elements formin this from the periodical table
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| I’m beyond the walls of intelligence…
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| Beyond the walls of intelligence →Nas — N.Y. State Of Mind
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| I get busy →O.C. |