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  • I know you like to do ecstacy, and then forget where you are
    Be up in a room with a stripper, and your homie
    Lamar Now that's a nasty threesome, a straight mis-match
    Instead of bangin' on the broad, you'd rather open his hatch
    And start packin'... and get some dookie on your tip
    Don't look now, you got a loogie on your lip
    Next time video tape it, let us all see it
    This is Sir
    Herb, I'll put you on the web - you pervert
    The number 23 on the beats, 'bout to do ya
    Mister Blake
    A.K.A. DJ
    Quik talkin' to ya
    And I'll prove
    I'm proper and yo game is whack with 1 line
    I'll never put my name on a track that wasn't mine
    This hip-hip ************t, is getting stupid again
    These ********s gun-tottin', fightin', gettin' rutless again
    There's a message in the
    Big Book, didn't you read it?
    It say if ********s don't remember the past, they gonn' repeat it
    So I'm into ???ated
    That ground heart-stated
    And we all made it
    If you want a hit, ********, call
    David The first name basis, depends on how the pay is 50 under the table do it enough, don't need a label '
    Cause I rob from the rich and
    I... gives to the ?floor?
    The ground-level ground shovel diggin' up some more
    So let's stay focused 'cause the chip is the prize
    Now put your ************t in first, ********, and ************ft it to rise
    And like Frank
    Nitti, ?We 2-degree?
    And you haters trippin' cause
    I got the key to the city
    Not a sissy but the hoes keep callin' us pretty
    And you mad 'cause the ************ got me on her titty
    Mr. Trou********an talk me talkbox, do why diddy!
    And I'll tell you to your ear, ********, you sound ************tty
    I'll take your hoe up to the room and show her no pity
    So call me
    DJ Meow Mix 'cause we gets kitty (meow)
    Scratchin' all the fleas off of these
    Stayin' high off of trees
    Top villian, and enjoyin' the breeze
    And the time
    I'm spendin' in yo ************, a supreme blast
    In the back of my
    S-500 playin'
    Dreamcast [Chorus]
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********!
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********! [Verse 2: Erick Sermon]
    Yo, yo, I'm into somethin' new, hoppin' through
    Quicker than the
    Compton Crew, and
    Y too Yo, what you wanna do?
    You ain't fresh!
    No contest - we cook like
    Raekwon the
    Chef And write for the skills, get set for the kill
    And prep for the meals, after that we chill
    The E-R-I-
    C-K is my name,
    I spell Bring it back like '92, with clientele
    And keep ************t right, and make sure the sound excite
    ******** in affect, like flashlight
    Quik and I do it 'til death
    In the house 'yall, blackin' out like
    Red & Meth
    Thick-boned women, in jeans and linen
    Yeah (whew!), make a ******** wanna go fi************n'
    And when I walk by, girls singin' a song
    Like E... is like a phemomenon
    Ugh, al around the world they be bumpin' to
    E Shuttin' it down, right in your company
    I blow through like a gust of wind, through doors
    Tearin' down the roof, rippin' the floors '
    Cause rap's no game,
    I pack heat, ain't afraid to pull it
    For what packs,
    I packs full of bullets
    Stop when
    I come through
    Big, Black, mother****** fresh for '99
    You suckas! [Chorus]
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ******** [Verse 3: Kam]
    Kam got get-back
    So get up off my ************, rat
    ********, that ************t whack
    You want a hit track?
    Where Quik at?
    Knick, knack, patty whack
    I only bone dimes
    How you tight?
    You don't even write your own rhymes
    It's been a long time
    Since you last heard from me
    Like Bill ass
    Hillary, "what's up?"
    Still love me, pretty young thang?
    City I'm from bang
    What's up, ********?
    Real G's don't wear titty and tongue rings
    You's a fruity-o, you make the most excuses
    And keep a studio full of ghost producers
    Young boss heard
    You was tryin' to floss, nerd
    Hollerin' "which side is the realest?"
    Who you steal that from? (Mau************erg)
    The street slang thief is your chief employment
    You live a life full of grief after brief enjoyment
    Fake gang bangers, when you see us, tuck all rags
    Adios, buenos dias, ******** y'all fags! [Chorus]
    You ain't fresh
    You ain't fresh...
  • I know you like to do ecstacy, and then forget where you are
    Be up in a room with a stripper, and your homie
    Lamar Now that's a nasty threesome, a straight mis-match
    Instead of bangin' on the broad, you'd rather open his hatch
    And start packin'... and get some dookie on your tip
    Don't look now, you got a loogie on your lip
    Next time video tape it, let us all see it
    This is Sir
    Herb, I'll put you on the web - you pervert
    The number 23 on the beats, 'bout to do ya
    Mister Blake
    A.K.A. DJ
    Quik talkin' to ya
    And I'll prove
    I'm proper and yo game is whack with 1 line
    I'll never put my name on a track that wasn't mine
    This hip-hip ************t, is getting stupid again
    These ********s gun-tottin', fightin', gettin' rutless again
    There's a message in the
    Big Book, didn't you read it?
    It say if ********s don't remember the past, they gonn' repeat it
    So I'm into ???ated
    That ground heart-stated
    And we all made it
    If you want a hit, ********, call
    David The first name basis, depends on how the pay is 50 under the table do it enough, don't need a label '
    Cause I rob from the rich and
    I... gives to the ?floor?
    The ground-level ground shovel diggin' up some more
    So let's stay focused 'cause the chip is the prize
    Now put your ************t in first, ********, and ************ft it to rise
    And like Frank
    Nitti, ?We 2-degree?
    And you haters trippin' cause
    I got the key to the city
    Not a sissy but the hoes keep callin' us pretty
    And you mad 'cause the ************ got me on her titty
    Mr. Trou********an talk me talkbox, do why diddy!
    And I'll tell you to your ear, ********, you sound ************tty
    I'll take your hoe up to the room and show her no pity
    So call me
    DJ Meow Mix 'cause we gets kitty (meow)
    Scratchin' all the fleas off of these
    Stayin' high off of trees
    Top villian, and enjoyin' the breeze
    And the time
    I'm spendin' in yo ************, a supreme blast
    In the back of my
    S-500 playin'
    Dreamcast [Chorus]
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********!
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********! [Verse 2: Erick Sermon]
    Yo, yo, I'm into somethin' new, hoppin' through
    Quicker than the
    Compton Crew, and
    Y too Yo, what you wanna do?
    You ain't fresh!
    No contest - we cook like
    Raekwon the
    Chef And write for the skills, get set for the kill
    And prep for the meals, after that we chill
    The E-R-I-
    C-K is my name,
    I spell Bring it back like '92, with clientele
    And keep ************t right, and make sure the sound excite
    ******** in affect, like flashlight
    Quik and I do it 'til death
    In the house 'yall, blackin' out like
    Red & Meth
    Thick-boned women, in jeans and linen
    Yeah (whew!), make a ******** wanna go fi************n'
    And when I walk by, girls singin' a song
    Like E... is like a phemomenon
    Ugh, al around the world they be bumpin' to
    E Shuttin' it down, right in your company
    I blow through like a gust of wind, through doors
    Tearin' down the roof, rippin' the floors '
    Cause rap's no game,
    I pack heat, ain't afraid to pull it
    For what packs,
    I packs full of bullets
    Stop when
    I come through
    Big, Black, mother****** fresh for '99
    You suckas! [Chorus]
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ********
    You Ain't
    Fresh [x7]
    You a busta, ******** [Verse 3: Kam]
    Kam got get-back
    So get up off my ************, rat
    ********, that ************t whack
    You want a hit track?
    Where Quik at?
    Knick, knack, patty whack
    I only bone dimes
    How you tight?
    You don't even write your own rhymes
    It's been a long time
    Since you last heard from me
    Like Bill ass
    Hillary, "what's up?"
    Still love me, pretty young thang?
    City I'm from bang
    What's up, ********?
    Real G's don't wear titty and tongue rings
    You's a fruity-o, you make the most excuses
    And keep a studio full of ghost producers
    Young boss heard
    You was tryin' to floss, nerd
    Hollerin' "which side is the realest?"
    Who you steal that from? (Mau************erg)
    The street slang thief is your chief employment
    You live a life full of grief after brief enjoyment
    Fake gang bangers, when you see us, tuck all rags
    Adios, buenos dias, ******** y'all fags! [Chorus]
    You ain't fresh
    You ain't fresh...