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    10 Minutes to 240, anything to fit the format
    Blend chords, ripple effect to get the floor packed
    Kick doors back and flip the doormat
    Split your thorax, Mr. Living Rorschach
    Done with dummy shit, you want a run at this, get it cracking
    Saying your spray is staying tough acting like Tinactin
    Venom leaks from the pen then I sink teeth into it
    Thin fluid get the beat to seep in and bend to it
    Peep the decent, no need to pretend
    Stretch the wings wide, feel the G's, man
    The fall's not fatal, the street at the end
    That's the bucket kicker, did your whiskers leave an imprint?
    Life's a gamble against a dealer that stacks the deck
    Plus the man's sleight of hand, maddeningly adept
    Battling me except this hand is the best yet
    So with that out the way, make your bet
    Spool it out, loom duel of the mouth weaves tight things
    Lines fly too long, cut 'em like kite strings

    Its basic, take steps to break dead spaces or rest in distress with all
    The stone faces

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    I get a dollar for my thoughts, got a hundred ideas
    And laugh like the Joker while you're reduced to tears
    Tears are what you get a little dent in your pride
    I'm a play the back like the rainbow sticker on your ride
    Lost my peace of mind when Jam master Jay died
    Role model from the get go, inspiring, guide
    First rap tape I ever had was Run DMC
    From there the voice of Hip Hop imbedded in me
    So what's inside of you? A can of worms, burning pockets
    Your a cap throw up, I'm heavy metal block hits
    Shit hits the fan I brought my umbrella,
    Make kids nod their heads when I flip an accapella
    These fellas. Well they wrote the book on incompetence
    I act like Erika Badu and work with my common sense
    Hence whenever I try, I'm doomed to succeed
    This is rap mother fuckers words are better than deeds
    Stick with it that's what I say, this is not a democracy
    You've stumbled into class, its Felix style philosophy
    The shit that I cook up might not be the best
    But you put me on the clock, I'm doper than your favorite Iron Chef
    Ask Chen Kinichi, he'll tell you how he feels
    You're far too salty serve hotter for appeal
    Your brain bones connected to your ass bone, that's real
    Could'a been dope, but you was spoiled, broken seal

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