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f/ Ultramagnetic MC's, Rude Boy Remmington |
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Yo Allstar Fresh, what's up? |
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This is Kool Keith |
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Yo, what's up, man? |
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Yeah, I wrote this hype rhyme for 'Cold Slammin' |
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I need a dope beat |
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Wait up, wait up |
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Yo, bust this |
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(*beat drops*) |
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Well, I'm hype and dope, super superb and nicer |
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The beat is slammin, with the cuts a pricer |
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Movin the crowd with the bass that kick back |
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The funky rhyme with the mic, now get back |
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And watch the floor burn, the rhythm is nitro |
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The cuts from Allstar, the jam is hype-o |
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Hypnotize till you vibe as I groove on |
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Steadily pacin the bass to move on |
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Rock the house, rock the club, rock the jam |
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Sing along, goddamn |
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Rhymes that come through get hot and hyper |
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So damn rough and really I'm that type of |
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Man to groove, stop and prove |
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Man to beat, man to meet |
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So look at me peak this |
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Style I'm usin, takin and choosin |
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You can't bite, toy, it's quite confusin |
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Verbally tactics, high kicks and drumsticks |
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Hittin the rhythm with a tap and a snare |
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As I go and flow, let you know I'm keepin up |
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Creepin up, take the mic on tour |
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I'm cold slammin |
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(Kool Keith) |
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Lyric designer, kickin his rhymes right |
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Ced Gee work late night, back now, recite |
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The rhymes that go in you, takin control of you |
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To damage your braincells, move forward, flowin to |
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The next line, let me shake those, accomplished |
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Find a crowd - then pump this |
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Once or twice to make sure that they heard of me |
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Lyrics so dope, they put my foes through surgery |
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Battered, bruised up, used up, shoes up |
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They chose to oppose Ced Gee and got fucked up |
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Far and near, dead in the ear, crystal clear |
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So bring another volunteer |
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To step on stage, grab a mic and try, do |
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He won't like it, so I can fly you |
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The manner, fashion's always stash him, smash him, wax him |
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On your ass is who I'm faxin |
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A letter of poetry, dope and you know it's me |
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Hype and ripe, enticed like you told me |
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Information from the technician |
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You can't diss me, so stop wishin |
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Your rhymes get entered, break in the center |
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Mould and carve it, Ced Gee's who I went to |
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Play the jam, hot damn, my man, I stand and cram |
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Cause I'm slammin |
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(I'm the King Bee) |
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I spark a question mark, put the letter in |
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Comes a scam before slammin on which |
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How many ways, modes, paths, methods |
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Punk attitude make me fed up |
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To myself I tumble, ready to funk them |
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Alter ego negative, show some |
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Burn some, cause your tag is a paper |
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Holdin my styles like common capers |
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You retriever, nothin cheaper, beaver |
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I'm here to crumble your ego like Libra |
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On a bug out tip like a chimpansee or a monkey |
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To snack the junkie |
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On a track by Fresh - funky |
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Bass cold bounce and bump be slammin |
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Even Amsterdam my song will find dancin |
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Clamouring, I never was the feminine |
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Just the Remmington, Amsterdamian |
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What's wrong with a song and a rep for standin |
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For the next man I hold the beef with knife and fork |
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Let your boot see, I bust your head cork |
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Cold slammin |
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(Urban Dance Squad) |
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Rude Boy Remmington |
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Yo, it's my turn |
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Back to burn |
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Allstar Fresh |
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Youknowmsayin? |
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Check this out |
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I go swift to lift the pitch, a switch, it change |
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Back to heat one, back to beat one |
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Allstar Fresh, I take the mic and defeat one |
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Wack MC, I take him out in the first round |
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Give him a problem, make it a hard time |
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Complication, rhyming formation |
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A lyrical madness, a funky bass and |
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Chasin, tastin, a litteral metaphor |
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Better fall, come on, you better score |
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1-2-3-4-5 and 6, so |
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Look at the Allstar, a deejay that mix, so |
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Fresh on the wheels of steel cause I'm Fresh, man |
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Those are powerful, king and the best man |
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As I go on the mic and so on |
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You look back now, you look wack now |
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Come in the place, catch your face a smack-down |