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And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin me
Ain't no mystery

On the outside peekin in
End of your
Words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie

Victor Jara of Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With his songs
drive you insane
Like the clackity-clack of a railroad track
I'm rattlin' like an old freight train
Towns are flashin' by, the folks are wavin' "hi"
Like a rolling river

And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
There's six lanes of traffic
Three lanes
river

And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
There's six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow

I
river. . .

And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
There's six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow. .
Bill, three is gonna break out
The stylee, me and P-E-T-E
Embark on a mission that's deadly, break out the ammo
Aiyyo Sammo, hook up the beat
And I'll
and a spare in the back
Lord who could ever ask for more
Sitting up high as the world goes by
Kicking-up dust in your tracks
It's a matter of pride
muster
Rows of all opposed, lows conquer all
Those who pose as dope I say nope, I wear def clothes
Dapper like Dan from, three the hard one
Never
the future tracks from the past)
This is radio-mass (I'm a thief I stole the beat)
This is radio-mass (Tracks from the future tracks from the past)
This is
hundred S drivin with hand on trigger
Crazy Lestat, check my track record
Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old
So what that mean?  I roll
rock on)
We keep going

Nigga breath can tell by how you rap you don't believe
Ain't hungry no mo' so off me you feed
I hustle at a speed between greed
For the groove
And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin' me
ain't no mystery
of my life

Remember then? bit o honey days
Back when 8-tracks were the craze with that Far-out sound
And the future seemed so far away
And we'd
Future in the club, poppin bands on them hoes
Go ahead Gucci Mane, toss some grands on the floor
I'm gettin a table dance by a fine ass ho
Got me coming
Uh, hmm
Hurry up a bit
Yeah, yeah

[Chorus: Repeat x3]
I like the way you do it, when you do it
When you doin', what you doin'

Check this
teeth
And Reebok classics on his feet
At a factory he does Nike
And then helps the family

Beat heart beat
He's made it to the newsweek
Sweetheart
M-C's are the field like pick cotton for real
I pop blocks like beat street with a notch n' a kill
They take the strongest of slaves to compete in
The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds
And leaks sounds that's heard
Ninety-three million miles away from came one
To represent
The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum
Death only one can save shell from
This relentless attack of the track spares none

Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look
The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum
Death only one can save shell from
This relentless attack of the track spares none

Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look
The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum
Death only one can save shell from
This relentless attack of the track spares none

Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look
rhyme...

Check it out on the one, two, three...

Standin' 5'11", and I'm almost 6 feet
18 years old, rock a new beat
Got no nickname, stay the cool sane
and the courage of three, and the mind of a man much wiser than me
You're the soul of the brother who won't come back
Who died in my arms on the railroad track
Out on the street I heard this beat marching drums 
And stomping feet and it sounded like this
Dum diddy dum diddy dum diddy dee 3x
How many times