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I always walk without, a firearm, I'm a one-man arsenal
Plus I fight with arms, walk out a battle not harmed at all |
And I planned it all, It was no set up, you had it comin bitch you know it,
I knew if I told your bitch ass bout this shit, you'd pussy and no show it |
Whether I wrote it, spoke it, anyways I smoke kids
They disappear like ThugLife's record, hocus pocus |
I'm throw hits, I'v got a hoe-sense, Not quite a sixth,
But when Empire walks through the room, I smell a bitch |
Naw bro you smell the aroma of a grese vat
I spit Thanksgiving, so rhymewise feel free to call Degree fat |
Hoe, I own you, throw you through circles, and run rings around you,
Mess you up so bad, your mom'll find you and not know she found you |
I clown everyone who tries to step to distilled and Degree
Matter fact, I'm rhyming to OMB's beatboxing free |
Fact is, anyone steps, they'r goin straight back down,
Fuck it, we own Fool's who even think to try and clown |
Word, we burn opposition with hot bars, and own so many cats
We should brand the one's that are not ours! |
Damn son, Fiya, Striaght Fiya, The 9th Degree burns aint just a rumour,....
Aiight thats an ednin, to all you who doubt, Fuck yuo, to those who believe, word. 9th Degree and distilled, we own you. |
lol good stuff guys good stuff i'm out pz
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fuck beefin wit Shadow, niggas kno what im on, carry two guns like Hitman..
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I'll kill you for the paper, act paper thin you get ripped, damn
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ummmmm..
gotta let the shells lose, cuz they stay out the barrel...only cuz they clostrphobic.. lol... |
I bring death to MC's, leave ya casket "closed" like Nostra spoke it
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