The Sweet Science

Rasco

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    Here we go, here we go, here we go, get your guards up
    Knowin' we got the sweet science

    I, enter the ring
    Touchdown ready to swing
    My footwork quick hit y'all with hard licks
    I'm Cassius Clay
    Y'all niggaz be the last to spray
    I'm here to whoop a niggaz ass today
    So I, tighten the gloves
    The world 'bout to show me some love
    I work hard better put up your guard
    I spent time out in the yard, I'm here to train me and my squad
    My head straight baby me and my God
    Techniques obsolete, I want the crowd up on they feet
    The world champ that they couldn't defeat
    Me and Charlie 2n, PLATOON!
    Y'all cats better give us some room
    I sidestep then I lower the boom
    You cats better call your goons
    Tonight 'cos I've entered the zone
    First round, put your back on the ground
    I'm the best pound for pound, you out never hearin' a sound
    Face straight now I'm spinnin' you round and round

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    Yo, the ring is now a disaster scene
    As the trainers apply vaseline, I come to smash the king
    The fight game dominator, I'm bringing the drama hater the common denominator
    respondin' to trauma greater than most'
    As my fatal fists begin, the volatile combination of leather sweat and skin
    Is slittin' yo eyebrow for spittin' this glass style
    Repetitious hittin' my mittens are hostile
    Fo' sure the southpaw nigga star can outspar
    Competitive outlaws with delicate glass jaws
    Applause and Paparazzi flash, you can not see past
    When me and Rasco control the fiasco
    Unmask those, untalented assholes
    With fast blows to physically challenge my past foes
    We smash those degenerate weak ducks
    And I catch a heat rush from the canvas my feet touch

    I run six miles a day
    To outlast niggaz, I'm top class
    Hopin' that you challenger talk trash
    You get dropped fast, baby we rock last
    You on the undercard stuck, runnin' without gas
    I stick jabs in ya abs and stay in the lab, rhymin'
    Goin' for feints and bad timin'
    It be the team that'll shatter your spleen
    I go twelve rounds baby 'til your clock is clean
    NA MEAN

    Swift to avenge Sugar Ray
    I'm Roy Jones, to you toy clones
    Send 'em back in a brutal way
    Rush to follow, as I crush the hollow
    With the knowledge and the insight of a, custom model
    I paint a bizarre picture to break your whole structure
    The texture of your face cracked and fractured
    You wheeze and sob, as I weave and bob
    We relieve your squad, you better believe the odds are against you

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