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Widda pen in my clutches
Spit a venomous substance
Meant for
Murder by the rhythm
Words be the weapon
Killing em with kindness
You can find us in the record shop
Digging thru an old ass box
I'm shocked
Found some Nancy wilson
In the dollar bin
Such a beautiful voice
My other choice
Is Edyie Gormé
Jean Luc Ponty
For that psychedelic jazz
Eye like to get high with
Uh!
Take a seat children
Teach you what the fuck a rhyme is
One at a time I'll give assignments
But it's all on you to really learn the loop
Strap on ya boots it's a war
For survival everyday
You gotta fight just to stay alive
But these records immortalize
The artist that brought the vibes
To the music that you listening to
Don't be surprised
We keepin it live
In two zero won nine What!

Didn't think I was good enough? Hood enough?
Shouldn't have, couldn't have, wouldn't have done somethin but you dumb fontin
It's nothin cousin, I'm rushin just like a Russian
While you're cussin & fussin they bumpin my shit, not runnin from shit
Just somethin to spit while I'm waiting to die, still savin your lives with hate in your eyes
What's that? Thought I was done?
Well fuck that!
I'm bringin the rough rap that's makin MCs fall off like hub caps
Butts clap when I hop up on the microphone, so mind your own or get your ass played xylophone
I am blown, I am stoned
I guess that's why I'm livin in another fuckn time & zone
I have shown how I have grown so they tried to clone but they couldn't duplicate my mind & soul
Its time to go so hold those wack rhymes & stand in line if you wanna battle mine, handle mine



Credits
Writer(s): A Herrera
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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