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twelve

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we 'bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

Yo, my pleasure principle from the streets of South Central

Ghetto hip-hop, non-stop fundamental

Urban curb servin', vocabulary surgin'

Rebel with the turban and the street corner sermon

I keep it working for certain, close curtains

Renegade bought up a troop when I'm dispersing

That body rock moving, ghetto baby music

We eat together with the inner city coolness

Yo, who's this? Slicing a rhyme in square bits

Burning through open skin like newly prepared grits

It's tuna fish, I'm bringing the bad news

And changing your bathroom if you thinking that cash rules

Pumpernickle blow words like snot speckles

When shots echo, some duck and hide like Doc Jeckyl

Like Don Rickles, I'm kicking rhymes that stop heckles

Correcting all them bombaclot specials

Yeah, I got my mind on my money for those that comprehend

And my money on whatever I think I look fresh in

Questions, is he stepping authentic?

Controller of the panic, break a senate lieutenant

Spit it, yo, despite your critic comments

Knowing it ain't a hotter verse than Zaakir Mohammed

Whether last or first, or bottom or top

Now is it stop hip-hop or hip-hop don't stop?

You need to protect your neck

You the kind of brother that be chasing checks

Me and my crew crash through and get enough respect

Basic bet takers I'm beyond your average thinker

Breakin' mc down, like my name was Dr.Shrinker

Passion fake MC's, wearing mink MC's

On the brink MC's, you need to think MC's

Bout to sink MC's, don't even speak MC's

Cause half the shit you kicking sounding weak MC's

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

I razor sharp with mindset, sunset 'til sun

I admit, I used to bite people's shit when I was young

Back in 83rd, before my style was preferred

Now my connection with the word is preferred

Primo, my AC, 310, the first confidential, inscribed my initial

The Z double A K I and R

Submerge in submarine words near and far

'Cause I'm too hot to handle, too cold to freeze

And I'm a diss any nigga that sounds like me

Yo yo, breeze through the trees, feel the flavor at ease

Degrees of melodies, typewriter MC's

They on their Q's and P's within my vicinity

Department of correctional rhyme ability

Keep the biters on lock, rock no silk

Still shock, rhyme around the clock

From dawn to dusk, my raps is mack truck

You schmucks is out of luck, I'm ready to run amuck

Aye yo I'm lampin, I'm lampin, I'm cold stone lampin

High pitch, beat drumsticks like Lionel Hampton

The champion, fly shit, the anthem

Five eleven with dark skin and tantrum

Handsome never, not even as a kid

The girls used to say "Yo his nose is too big!"

Yo, you'll get bruised, kid ghetto blues, you'll never refuse shit

The show's good, pinching MC's like rosewood

I'm shrinking you rap characters into dye-cast miniatures

I'll blast ten of you while my rhymes harass senators

Through TV monitors, brains and glass dinner jaws

Verbal vinegar for you biters down at the salad bar

The combat that's making your mom mad

I'm feeling a congrat for burning his mom bad

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

One, two, Jurassic crew

What we bout to do brothers have no clue

Three, four, tear down the door

And give the party people what they came here for

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