Clones Lyrics

Yeah, 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.
[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.

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Watch Roots Clones video

Songwriter(s): Malik Smart, Malik Smartabdul Bastit, Kenyatta Saunders, Tariq Collins, Mark Sebastian, John Sebastian, Kenyatta Saunders Kelo, Steve Boone, John Benson Sebastian, Karl Jenkins, Phillip Blenman, Phillip N. Blenman, Mark Douglas Sebastian
Copyright: Alley Music Corp., Mark Sebastian Music,
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