| Yo man there's a lot of brothers out there
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| Flaking and perpetrating but scared to kick reality
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| Man, you been doing all this dope producing
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| You ain't had a chance to show 'em what time it is
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| So what you want me to do?
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| (Express yourself!)
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| I'm expressing with my full capabilities
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| And now I'm living in correctional facilities
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| Cause some don't agree with how I do this
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| I get straight and meditate like a Buddhist
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| I'm dropping flavor, my behavior is hereditary
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| But my technique is very necessary
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| Blame it on Ice Cube, because he said it gets funky
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| When you got a subject and a predicate
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| Add it on a dope beat, and it'll make you think
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| Some suckers just tickle me pink, to my stomach
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| Cause they don't flow like this one
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| You know what? |
| I won't hesitate to diss one
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| Or two before I'm through, so don't try to sing this
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| Some drop science, while I'm dropping English
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| Even if Yella, makes it a-capella
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| I still express, yo, I don't smoke weed or sess
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| Cause it's known to give a brother brain damage
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| And brain damage on the mic don't manage, nothing
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| But making a sucker and you equal
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| Don't be another sequel (Express yourself!)
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| Now, getting back to the PG
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| That's program, and it's easy
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| Dre is back, new jacks are made hollow
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| Expressing ain't their subject because they like to follow
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| The words, the style, the trend, the records I spin
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| Again and again and again, yo, you're on the other end
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| Watch a brother blend dope rhymes, with no help
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| There's no fessing or guessing while I'm expressing myself
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| It's crazy to see people be
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| What society wants them to be, but not me
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| Ruthless, is the way to go, they know
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| Others say rhymes which fail to be original
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| Or they kill where the hip-hop starts
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| Forget about the ghetto, and rap for the pop charts
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| Some musicians cuss at home
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| But scared to use profanity when upon the microphone
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| Yeah, they want reality, but you will hear none
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| They'd rather exaggerate a little fiction
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| Some say no to drugs, and take a stand
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| But after the show, they go looking for the "Dopeman"
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| Or they ban my group from the radio
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| Hear N.W.A. |
| and say, "Hell no!"
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| But you know it ain't all about wealth
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| As long as you make a note to (Express yourself!)
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| from the heart
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| Cause if you want to start to move up the chart
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| Then expression is a big part of it
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| You ain't efficient when you flow, you ain't swift
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| Movin like a tortoise, full of rigor mortis
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| There's a little bit more to show
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| I got rhymes in my mind, embedded like an embryo
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| Or a lesson, all of 'em expression
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| And if you start fessing, I got a Smith and Wessun for ya
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| I might ignore your record because it has no bottom
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| I get loose in the summer winter spring and autumn
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| It's Dre on the mic, getting physical
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| Doin' the job, N.W.A is the lynch mob!
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| Yes I'ma climb, but you know you need this
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| And the knowledge is growing just like a fetus
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| Or a tumor, but here is the rumor
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| Dre is in the neighborhood and he's up to no good
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| When I start expressing myself, Yella, slam it
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| Cause if I stay funky like this I'm doing damage
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| Or I'ma be too hyped, and need a straight jacket
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| I got knowledge, and other suckers lack it
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| So, when you see Dre, a DJ on the mic
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| Ask what it's like, it's like we're getting hyped tonight
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| Cause if I strike, it ain't for your good health
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| But I won't strike if you just (Express yourself!) |