| I ain’t no joke, I use to let the mic smoke
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| Now I slam it when I’m done and make sure it’s broke
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| When I’m gone, no on gets on, cause I won’t let
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| nobody press up, and mess up, the scene I set
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| I like to stand in the crowd, and watch the people wonder Damn!
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| But think about it, then you’ll understand
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| I’m just an addict, addicted to music
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| Maybe it’s a habit, I gotta use it Even if it’s jazz or the quiet storm
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| I hook a beat up, convert it into hip-hop form
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| Write a rhyme in grafitti and, every show you see me in Deep concentration, cause I’m no comedian
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| Jokers are wild, if you wanna be tamed
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| I treat you like a child, then you’re gonna be named
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| Another enemy, not even a friend of me Cause you’ll get fried in the end, when you pretend to be competing, cause I just put your mind on pause
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| And I complete when, you compare my rhyme with yours
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| I wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunned
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| Remember me? |
| The one you got your idea from
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| But soon you start to suffer, the tune’ll get rougher
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| When you start to stutter, that’s when you had enough of biting it’ll make you choke, you can’t provoke
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| You can’t cope, you shoulda broke, because I ain’t no joke
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| I got a question -- it’s serious as cancer
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| Who can keep the average dancer
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| hyper as a heart attack, nobody smilin
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| Cause you’re expressin, the rhyme that I’m stylin
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| This is what we all sit down to write
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| You can’t make it so you take it home, break it and bite
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| Use pieces and bits of all my hip-hop hits
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| Get the style down pat, then it’s time to switch
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| Put my tape on pause, and add some more to yours
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| Then you figured, you’re ready for the neighborhood chores
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| A E-M-C-E-E don’t even try to be When you come up to speak, don’t even lie to me You like to exaggerate, dream and imaginate
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| Then change the rhyme around, that can aggravate me So when you see me come up, freeze
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| Or you’ll be one of those seven MC’s
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| They think that I’m a new jack, but only if they knew that
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| they who think wrong are they who can’t do that
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| style that I’m doin, they might ruin
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| Patterns of paragraphs, based on you and
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| your offbeat DJ, if anything he play
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| sound familiar, I’ll wait 'til E. say
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| Play 'em, so I’ma have to diss and bro
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| you can get a smack for this, I ain’t no joke
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| I hold the microphone like a grudge
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| B’ll hold the record so the needle don’t budge
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| I hold a conversation cause when I invent
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| I nominated, my DJ, The Presdient
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| When I see you I’ll, kick a freestyle, goin steadily
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| So pucker up, and whistle My Melody
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| But whatever you do, don’t miss one
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| There’ll be another rough rhyme after this one
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| Before you know it, you’re followin and fiendin
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| Waiting for the punchline, to get the meanin
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| Like before, the middle of my story I’m tellin
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| Nobody beats the R, so stop yellin
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| Save it, put it in your pocket for later
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| Cause I’m Moving the Crowd, and B’ll wreck the fader
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| No interruptions 'til the mic is broke
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| When I’m gone… then you can joke!
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| Cause everything is real on a serious tip
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| Keep playin, and I get furious quick
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| And I’ll take you for a walk through hell
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| Feed your dome -- then watch your eyeballs swell
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| Guide you out of triple stage darkness
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| When it get dark again… then I’ma spark this
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| microphone, cause the heat is on, you see smoke
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| And I’m finished when the beat is gone, I’m no joke |