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    Verse One: Keith Murray

    Haaah! (wooooooo!)
    Yeah, (hah, hah, hah, hah) L.O.D.
    Keith Murray, Def Squad
    Mista, Mista, Mista, Mista Smith
    You wanna hit? (You wanna hit?)
    Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad

    Yo... I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents
    And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin a shit
    My style is all that, and a big bag of chips wit the dip
    Fuck all that sensuous shit
    I represent intellectual violence
    And leave your click holier than the Ten Commandments
    Like Redman I shift with tha ruck
    If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up [Word up!]
    No need to ask you who is he, Son I get busy
    Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many ruff cities [Chicago, LA, any of them]
    I'll have to Norman Bate ya I love ta hate ya
    Cause youse a freak by nature
    Can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya
    Drink your style down straight wit no chaser [Word up!]
    My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back
    As soon as one of you niggaz try to over react [BLAOW!]
    Tha L.O.D. love good confrontation or vamp [Word up!]
    Break your concentration, murder your camp
    For tha jealous, overzealous, we fellaz
    Blow the the spot like Branford Marsalis
    Niggaz comin through and actin wild
    Y'all commercial niggaz better have a Coke and a smile
    I SHOT YA!

    Verse Two: Prodigy

    Yo, I conversate wit many men, it's time to begin again
    Forgot what I already knew, aiyyo you hear me friend?
    Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
    Secret society, tryin to keep they eye on me
    But I'm stay incogni', in places they can't find me
    Make my moves strategically, the G.O.D.
    It's sorta similar but iller than a chess player
    I use my thinker, it coincides with my blinker
    While you wondered what we sayin on the records real
    Yeah you motherfuckin right kid you know the deal
    My Mobb is Infamous just like the fuckin title read
    You get back slapped so hard make ya nose bleed
    Some ---- kids feeling guilty bout the ----
    But you first baby girl so just face it (awright)
    But anyway, back on the real side of things
    My niggaz sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings
    Not only is it inside the songs that we sing (kid)
    Everything is real not just a song that we sing (word up, it's real)
    From my life to the paper (what), very accurately
    Give you all of my two so maybe you can three
    Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E (shine baby, just shine)
    My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea
    How dare you ever in your life walk past me
    Without acknowledgin this man as G-O-D
    I shot ya faggot ass

    Verse Three: Fat Joe

    Now who the fuck you think you talkin to, I pay dues I spray crews
    Look I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news
    Runnin this racket, from New York to Montego
    Slaughterin people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico
    I'd rather be feared than loved because the fear lasts longer
    These bitch ass niggaz know we stronger
    Than these weaklings, seekin, for respect that ain't there
    Knuckleheads beware, there's mad tension in the air
    Tommy guns for fun, shotties for block parties
    While fresh lead heats up your insides like a fifth of Bacardi
    Call the ambulance, this man's wet
    Bullets cut him down from the root up just like a Gillette
    razor, which I keep hidden in my oral
    Ready to spatter, at any ad out, that wants to quarrel
    These feds want me for some tax evasion
    Now that the fact that somebody's gettin lucci that's not caucasian
    Bullets be blazin through these streets filled with torture [what the deal pop]
    Joey Crack, a.k.a. Kaiser Ceaser

    Verse Four: Foxxy Brown

    Thug niggaz give they minks to chinks
    To' down we sip drinks rockin minks, flashin rings and things [what the deal]
    Frontin hardcore deep inside the Jeep, mackin
    Doin my thing fly nigga you a Scarface king
    Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggaz for they chedda
    Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers
    Flossin rocks like the size of Fort Knox
    Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy bangin like Versace locs pops [what the deal]
    Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks
    I'm sexin raw dog without protection, diseaese infested
    Uh, Italiano got the Lucciano
    I gets down fuckin with Brown Fox extra keys to the drop
    Boo I'm Jingling Baby, I got crazy Dominicans who pay me
    to lay low, I play slow
    Roll with tha Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin
    It all real nigga what tha deal
    I shot ya!

    Verse Five: LL Cool J

    What the fuck? I thought I conquered the whole world
    Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl
    But still, niggaz want to instigate shit
    I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game quick
    Name the spot, I make it hot for ya bitches
    Female rappers too, I don't give a fuck boo
    Word, I'm here to crush all my peers
    Rhymes of the month in The Source for twenty years
    Niggaz scared, I'm detrimental to your mental state
    I use my presedential Rolex to be debate
    Niggaz fight, glock cocked ya temple gets fucked
    MC's, that fuck with LL they gets bucked
    That's real, what's up with that I Shot Ya deal?
    Light shit, niggaz slip now how the bullet feel?
    New York appeal, in L.A. they gang bang
    But if you touch a mic your motherfuckin ass hang
    That's facts, niggaz don't recieve no type of slack
    Cause if they do, they ass is always runnin back
    Not this time, but next time I'ma name names
    LL, shittin from on top of the game
    I SHOT YA!

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    É permitida somente a visualização no site das letras de músicas encontradas aqui, vedada sua reprodução através de quaisquer outros meios (Lei 9610/98).Todas as letras de músicas são propriedade dos seus respectivos autores e divulgadas somente para fins educacionais.All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics are provided for educational purposes only.