yo you can't touch me, i'll belittle ur skills//
i'm blazin dutchies, you poppin skittles for thrills//
i come with an acquittal that kills, fuck the bills//
make my own cizzle wit benjamin franklin mills//
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the reverberation of my vocal leaves ya speachless//
frustrate the nation with hip hop leeches//
while ur cravin a vacation with your history teacher//
im maintainin status, with squeaky clean sneakers//
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attempts to decode mathmatics unsuccessful//
u tryin to decypher pie in just one breathful//
its stressfull, comprehendin your mouth above your mind//
step back, plan attack, take time, then decide//
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your prehistoric kid, and i'm colinizin outer space//
my psionic powers expand like a superhuman race//
towers and cables connect the spectacle that takes place//
and when I cock back both tonsils, victory is what i taste//
yo whatsup, hopefully this one's a little easier to digest. quick piece. feed me, semoure!
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