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    Spinach flips my lips
    Sit on top of crystal bottle tips
    Sippin ready to flip do a hit
    On a rapper that a serpent
    Counterfeit criminal fakin jacks
    Luxury in his raps not facts
    If a camouflage large niggas
    Keep it on the low black
    No raps or Kodak just stacking cheese
    Freezers packed

    Full of human bodies executed vicious
    Reputed business German lugers
    Lift spitting & twist just

    Flesh confronted nobody want it son
    I eclipse with flowin showing I’m wicked
    Lyrics murderin myths with

    No remorse a different flow continuous
    Blends with no resemblance
    Money & power till it’s vengeance

    I caught you peekin around the corner
    Tryin to see if we left yet
    We staked out your shit last night
    Feeling the vibe for death
    To make you strangle on you blood fluid.
    You know it
    Sleep walking with the machete saying
    Them dogs
    Make me do it, true it
    Mr. Machete telling you bitches I’m ready
    Never nervous behind the barrel
    Trigger finger.
    Stay steady
    So buckle up
    Cause it’s the only way to survive the ride
    Down to the Y we havin a party inside
    I dedicated this to all you insects
    Who deep on buggin me
    Pushing my panic button, needin trauma
    Unit recovery
    My tracks be fat got them attracting like
    Even P.E. be saying you bring that beat back
    Come one come all my shit be smoking like
    Echo sauna
    The underground went with digital
    Humpin around if you wanna
    So toe to toe or pussy to dick
    Head chicken heads practice on carrot
    Or let you doo doo hole spread eww
    Y’all niggers chill cause we went there too
    Change this shit from the ruffside
    And we’re paid…

    One of the seven they
    Couldn’t hang
    Stepped to the six
    The last brother alive
    Of the startin five-one of the ones
    But you look don’t acknowledge
    The mix with a quickness
    Suckers fall and crumble
    To the sickness(sickness)
    Of not baggin themselves
    Your lil ass go figure
    Why ya pants be saggin
    Stare at my audacity
    I ain’t from the city(strong 1)
    I ain’t from around here
    Freestyle what’s the use
    Record companies get the money
    Give you juice, and end up cutting
    Your ass loose-cut off
    While you style for free
    They talk wild for a fee
    Getcha ass souped
    While you never ever recoup
    Catchin wreck wit no check
    They’ll never give ya respect
    Ya blackself(my brother)
    Getcha self some real yelp (yeah)
    Accountant, sharp
    Who’ll sit down & show ya
    Instead a some rich bitch lawyer
    Who swear that he know ya-he don’t
    Know ya as long as
    Other folk in rap
    Got it made
    Fuck freestyle
    I wanna stay paid (paid)

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    Todas as letras de Public Enemy

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