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I'm the problem and the solution
The revolution won't be televised, it's too gruesome
Too gangsta, too graphic for you born again faggots
My words inspire people like the Ten Commandments
I floss with diamond teeth, scuba dive on a private beach
Billy Idol smoke chronic with chiefs
I cut your tongue out for talking against me
My enemies' grandchildren will remember me for centuries
The fine line between insanity and genius
Murder you, I give your reality a remix
Humanity's beneath us, we superhumans
Super tyrants, super violent
Listen to the way my knot click right before I pop your collar
The most hated from New York like I shot your mama
Compare me to Amazon.com for dollars
Canarsie Osama, riding with the mafia martyrs, fucka
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
The thicker the plot, the quicker the shot
The liquor and pot got me higher than a Denver junkie
Shocking the monkey, feeding his habit
Set it up, cook it up, tie it off and stab it
Shoot it up, feel the rush, then throw up your guts
Not out for a while 'cause the style is nuts
Like I'm in Rocha, fucking coca
These other cats fake it with that baking soda
This is it, this is it, yeah I'm back on that shit again
Danny Boy, Danny Boy, you ever gonna spit again?
Come on homie, you know me, yeah I birthed this style
The money back guarantee, I make it worth your while
Still the Cadillac king, I don't fuck with foreign cars
American, I need a blowjob and a porn star
Nobody move, no, not one punk
I fuck around and pull out my shotgun pump
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
Yeah it's on motherfuckers, I came back to spit
Move with the hunger fueled by a lack of chips
When I lose my cool and shoot it's accurate
Give me some room, I make youse move back a bit
I came from a town where the hope can drown
Water teaspoons deep from the dope and found
With their necks tied up and their rope around
'80S cars overheated, broken down
Cops even heathen, living with no odds or even
Gambling fist fighters, watch a kid bobbing and weaving
Everybody scheming, we all deceiving
I wrote my words on the walls of mausoleums
Now I stand in a position of strength
So I speak for those who can't, I spit what I think
I'm from the city where motherfuckers was sticking the Brinks
I rep the Irish street cats in the mix in the clique, come on
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
Hardcore chemical gangsta material
Tri-City regime bang in your stereo
Put 'em up, shut 'em down
Keep it raw, rhyming with the gutter sound
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