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Versuri The Roots - Clones
Versuri-versuri.ro > Versuri Litera T > Versuri The Roots > Illadelph Halflife - ClonesYeah, to all the Jim Carrey ass large co-op  
 KnowhatI'msayin? Large co-op, what the fuck?  
 To the clones, we bless the domes  
 Blow the vial, you know my style, large co-op  
 Freestyle all the way son  
 Dice  
  
 Verse One: M.A.R.S.  
  
 First of all let's talk about these ill capers  
 And fly ass frontin bitches that now caught vapors  
 Niggaz run up on you with guns, snatchin papers  
 Outlined body chalk, is how they would scrape ya  
 From off the pavement, I hate gettin locked up  
 cause that upstate bus reminds me of the slave ships  
 But then the bible never saved shit  
 I guess that's why every juvenile is in the same predicament  
 You wanna slang crack, or hold tecs, and do the concept  
 You can't make loot, when your moms is smokin up the product  
 I try to tell ya, don't let these streets fuckin fail ya  
 The way niggaz be gettin clapped shit'll fuckin scare ya  
 But in the dark, we ran wild, so we killin em  
 Niggaz scared, can't stand still, like fuckin helium  
 Fake niggaz, they don't go platinum they go aluminum  
 Got em cloned the fuck up son, that's why we losin em  
 I'm lookin at this niggaz longevity  
 To make a big play, but then it might be a mistake  
 Cuz if I get sent to D.C., I'm sendin Dice to DE  
 With three p's, so when I get out, he can see me  
 for real, cuz the streets is filled with snakes and rats  
 The snake will be that bitch and that rat will be that cool cat  
 With swollen pockets we gonna take you back home  
 Master Allah Rule Savior, never clone  
  
 Verse Two: Black Thought  
  
 Yo, I use the mic to slap you in the face and erase your taste  
 Disgrace your date put your title to waste  
 Dominant lyrical grace, from a place called wild  
 Illadelph Isle Pensy, that's the residency  
 Consist in currency, my pockets never empty  
 Some cats, believe they MC but we know they all fraud  
 Do a show in Philly niggaz wouldn't applaud  
 Nobody know your record nor who you openin for  
 Can tell your squad's artificial while approachin the door  
 So you should prepare, for lyrical terror that's pure  
 Step up to the resevoir, of the soul proprietor style  
 messiah or, the higher law down with Dice Raw  
 The matador, shorty conniseur  
 Stompin whatever you build to the floor  
 Similar to that of a dinosaur  
 I told you I'm the rap predator  
 You insist to imitate, what for?  
 Superstar niggaz is ten percent real, ninety percent invented  
 for a fuckin record deal  
 Comin with somethin veterans can't feel  
 I hit you like a steel anvil  
 Because you grafted off the next man's skill  
 But still I remain mellow, seein the theatrics of Othello  
 Run over tactics of the  
 C-L-O/N-E-S fess  
 The phoniest cats is felonious (word)  
  
 Verse Three: Dice Raw  
  
 Dice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terrorist  
 Block trooper, conniseur of fine cannabis  
 Focus never weak, blow up the spot like plastique  
 Leave a nigga shook, to the point, he won't speak  
 Never half-assed, always live and direct  
 On bitches try to punk smell the panty and raw sex  
 Mad lights I had to black out, when fake niggaz act out  
 Or step out of place, they get slapped in they face  
 All y'all niggaz is fake, tryin to emulate my style  
 what grown man? In this game, to me you're a child  
 I trained wack MC's, in camps like ex-marines  
 Why the fuck you think you went home and had bad dreams  
 of horrifying things, that your ass never seen before?  
 You traveled to the realm of Dice Raw  
 where CLONES get they dome blown with chrome microphones  
 It's not your fault black, just the fact you wasn't shown  
 You'll come through this like a smurf  
 I got you rollin stop off the earth  
 Represent while I been like this since birth  
 And I won't be the last but I DEFINITELY was the first  
 Dice Raw big car Logan's Isle sol-dier  
  
 Verse Four: Malik B  
  
 Don't come across that line or pay a cost  
 Knuckle games and hammer cocked ain't nothing sweet or soft  
 Win lose or draw to the jaw take one  
 Deranger lyrical launcher, or station  
 No conversation is needed, my task completed  
 Read a nigga up and down in the cut where I'm seated  
 Snatch you from your cloud of cannabis you ignoramuses  
 You laid on your lap, when I attack your glamorous  
 lifestyle, I banged your head up with the white fowl  
 My character a product of this two-one-fifth trife style  
 I breeze through areas niggaz would fear to walk in  
 Balance the talkin, that galactic style as of a falcon  
 Your Star Trek ass will wrinkle  
 Spill these words and form into a sprinkle  
 cap you're brought up and the name of twinkle  
 My insight will crack the windpipe of y'all niggaz  
 Whether small, middle-sized, or tall niggaz  
 Just tie your name next when I start to X  
 Givin out flex pains of death so fuck a raincheck  
 The insane vet, whether you ganked the brain wet  
 You proceed to lame check, the opposite of same sex  
 I annihliate your type if you violate  
 Makin your blood rush, you post never a higher rate
- Groot De Boudewijn
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