Clones

[Intro: Black Thought] To all the Jim Carrey-ass, M.A.R.S. Co-op Know what I'm sayin'? M.A.R.S. 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 1: M.A.R.S] First of all, let's talk about these ill capers And fly-ass frontin' bitches that now caught vapors Niggas 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 TEC's, 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 niggas be gettin' clapped, the shit'll fuckin' scare ya! But in the dark, we ran wild, son, we killin' 'em Niggas scared, can't stand still like fuckin' helium Fake niggas, 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 nigga's longevity To make a big play, but then, it might be a mistake 'Cause if I get sent to D.C., I'm sendin' Dice to D.E With three P's, so when I get out, he can see me For real, 'cause 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 2: 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 Illadel' Val', Pennsy — that's the residency Consistent currency, my pocket's never empty Some cats believe they MC, but we know they all fraud! Do a show in Philly, niggas 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 reservoir of the soul proprietor style Messiah Or the kaya lord down with Dice Raw The matador, shorty connoisseur 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 niggas 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 But know the tactics of the P.L.O These C-L-O-N-E-S fess The phoniest cats is felonious, word! [Verse 3: Dice Raw] Dice Raw, the juvenile lyricist, corner-store terrorist Block trooper, connoisseur 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 niggas act out Or step out of place, they get slapped in they face All y'all niggas is fake, tryna emulate my style What grown man? In this game, to me, you're a child I trained wack MCs in camps like ex-Marines Why the fuck you think you went home and had bad dreams? Of horrifyin' things that your ass never seen before You traveled through the realm of Dice Raw Where clones get they domes blown with chrome microphones It's not your fault, black, just the fact you wasn't shown Don't come through this like a smurf, unnatural, it's not from this Earth Represent, well, I've been like this since birth And I won't be the last, but I definitely was the first! Dice Raw, big car Logan Val' soldier [Verse 4: Malik B] Don't come across that line, or pay a cost Knuckle games and hammer cocked, ain't nothin' sweet or soft Win, lose or draw, to the jaw take one Deranged lyrical launcher on 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 attacked your glamorous Lifestyle, I banged your head up with the right fowl My character a product of this 2-1-5th trife style! I breeze through areas niggas would fear to walk in Balance the talkin', that galactic style is of a Vulcan Your Star Trek ass will wrinkle, spill these words and form into a sprinkle Cat, you're brought up and the name of twinkle My insight will crack the windpipe of y'all niggas Whether small, middle-sized or tall niggas Just sign your name next when I start to X Givin' out flesh pains of death, so fuck a rain check The insane vet, whether you ganked the brain wet You proceed to lame check, the opposite of same sex I annihilate your type if you violate Makin' your blood rush, your pulse now at a higher rate