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    F/ Lil Dap, Miz Marvel

    Intro: Jeru The Damaja

    Yes yes

    Check it out right here now, knowhatimean?
    Henryville, the muthafuckin bitchez wit dikz

    That's in the midst,
    Of the real brothers whose the true wonders

    Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that shit about this and this and that

    But fakin shit, I'mma drop it like this

    {Jeru The Damaja
    Bad bitches and techs, and sound affects

    Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when shit get hec-tic
    Out in Brooklyn, too late you's a vick

    And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a bitch ass trick

    Pimps and players, no I'm not a hater

    'cause I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain't pay her

    Shoutin youse a regulator,
    Soft like C3PO, but pop shit like Darth Vader

    For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy

    Your booty, when shit get raw you Doo like Scooby
    I'm snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies

    Dutches, chins, and hips get twist
    And let it be known, I eat ya'll pussies like a porno movie

    Drop that bitch with a dick, and get a nigga like this

    Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel)

    You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)


    You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz)

    Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz)


    {Lil Dap

    You niggas are like East New York waste, spit in your face

    Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace

    It's like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club

    Spit it out, ya hoes know what this shit is about

    Bitchez wit dicks, and make a nigga mad as shit

    Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York

    Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around

    'cause these whole motherfuckers, wanna round are town
    Thinkin they down, but don't know BK grounds



    {Miz Marvel

    The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon

    Against half steppin, niggas is fake,

    I scope them first impression

    Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion

    And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection

    Ya eyes cross like an intersection

    You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix

    Sold your soul for it's weight in gold bricks

    Bitchez wit dikz, with chips like chicks

    Only talk with snares and tits

    In the time of revolution, be the first to submit

    Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit

    Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix

    Won't admit that their style is rip and counterfeited

    Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target
    Thrown into the bottomless pit, bitchez wit dikz


    (bitch! scratched over and over)

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