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    That makes me know that, we we we we're doin
    We had the right idea in the beginning
    And and we just need to maintain our focus, and elevate
    We what we do we update our formulas
    We have certain formulas but we update em (oh right)
    with the times, and everything y'know
    And and so.. y'know
    The rhyme style is elevated
    The style of beats is elevated
    but it's still Guru and Premier
    And it's always a message involved

    "The real... hip-hop"
    "MCing, and DJing.. from your own mind, ya know?"
    "I, I guess right now we should start the show"

    Who's the suspicious character strapped with the sounds profound
    Similar to rounds spit by Derringers
    You're in the Terrordome like my man Chuck D said
    It's time to dethrone you clones, and all you knuckleheads
    Cause MC's have used up extended warranties
    While real MC's and DJ's are a minority
    But right about now, I use my authority
    Cause I'm like the Wizard and you look lost like Dorothy
    The horror be when I return for my real people
    Words that split wigs hittin like some double Desert Eagles
    Sportin caps pulled low, and baggy slacks
    Subtractin all the rappers who lack, over Premier's tracks
    Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse
    So as I have in the past, I whup ass
    Droppin lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax
    And one-dimensional MC's can't handle that
    While the world's revolvin, on it's axis
    I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics
    The wilderness is filled with this; so many people
    searching for false lift, I'm here with the skills you've missed
    The rejected stone is now the cornerstone
    Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home
    You know my steez...

    "You know my steez" --> Method Man
    "Let em know, do your thing y'all" "Keep it live"
    "To the beat y'all" --> Flavor Flav

    The beat is sinister, Primo makes you relax
    I'm like the minister, when I be lacin the wax
    I be bringin salvation through the way that I rap
    And you know, and I know, I'm nice like that
    Work through worldly problems, I got the healing power
    When the mic's within my reach, I'm feelin more power
    Stealing at least three minutes of every rap radio hour
    It's often easier for one, to give advice
    Than it is for a person to run one's own life
    That's why I can't be caught up in all the hype
    I keep my soul tight and let these lines takes flight
    The apparatus gets blessed, and suckers get put to rest
    No more of the unpure I got the cure for this mess
    The wackness is spreadin like the plague
    MC's lucked up and got paid but still can't make the fuckin grade
    How many times are wannabe's gonna lie?
    Yo they must wanna fry, they can't touch the knowledge I personify
    I travel through the darkness carrying my torch
    The illest soldier, when I'm holding down the fort
    ("You know my steez" --> Method Man)
    You know my steez...

    "Let em know, do your thing y'all" "Keep it live"
    "You know my steez" --> Method Man
    *repeat 4X with very last line modified as follows*
    "The mic..."

    On the microphone you know that I'm one of the best yet
    Some punks, ain't paid all of their debts yet
    Tryin to be fly, ridin high on the jet-set
    With juvenile rhymes makin fake-ass death threats
    Big deal, like En Vogue, here's something you can feel
    Styles more tangible, and image more real
    For some time now, I've held the scrolls and manuscripts
    When it's time to go all out you be like, "Damn he flipped"
    Now I'm sick, fed up with the bullshit
    Got the lyrical full clip, giving you a verbal asswhip
    Don't trip it's the gifted prolific one
    Known as Bald Head Slick -- why is the press all on my di-dick?
    My style be wilder, than a kamikaze pilot
    Don't try it, I'm about to start more than a friggin riot
    Styles unsurpassable, and nuccas that's suckas, yo
    Them motherfuckers are harrassable
    For I be speaking from my parables and carry you beyond
    The mic's either a magic wand
    Or it gets tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb
    Then I grab your palm, no pulse you're gone
    And if you thought we'd lose our niche in this rap shit you way wrong
    I stay up, I stay on, shine bright, like neon
    Your song's, pathetic, synthetic, like Rayon
    Fat beats, they play on, want dope rhymes, put me on

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