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I'm the three And three (badda-ba-ba-by-by) it's the magic numberrr (badda-ba-ba-by-by) Chorus: KRS-One It takes 7 Dee Jays to control a sound
I tried to tell 'em I'm the shit, but they told us, "no way" With no cuts, they're like a barber, they're about to catch fades My number one rule is
Daddy daddy tell me a story of how you took out that wack mc No daddy, tell them how you beat down that bootlegger Daddy daddy tell us a story!
Daddy daddy tell me a story of how you took out that wack mc No daddy, tell them how you beat down that bootlegger Daddy daddy tell us a story! [big
It's hard as hell for a young Florida boy Where we play football and sell dope, man Gold rims and sticks, 7-trés, no tops, ya dig, candy paints
rhyme 'fire' with 'desire' it makes me feel Take inspiration from lyricists like Sheeran, Bearder and Eminem 'Utter genius' doesn't cover their magic with
relinquished Seem to S'ilad kind of genius Drifting It's a scratch I cure with itching Itching to see earth from the canyons Drifting With no aeroplane lifting
but do I all of my stunts at ease No I do not be Chinese I just speak it fluently I'm 7 feet tall when I stand on my two feet Given I stand
you do) Seven A.M. woke in the mornin' wit henn and caffeine and green and nicotine No dough so pop a couple of dough, Lil' Rippsta, nigga mista
slide by They hate and show it Cause I'm fly, they know it They deny it, but they know it Thats why, every time I slide by They hate and show it Cause I'm
And only holy off the beat Forty seven is the number till I drop dead I speak freely like Malema but only wiser Facts sharper like a laser machine My brain
Knowledge I'm knowin I'm sowin this seed I'm no rodent I'm chosen to be On This road you'll see Up with the wave and we roll with the heat Nothin to say cause
...(Leviticus 14:7, 51-52) Or a magic handkerchief or simply uttering words ...(Acts 19:12) Jesus taught us not to wash our hands ...(Mathew 15: 2) He knew
But we still need to find some weed 'Caus to chill out man that's the only thing we'll need It's plug one two three and that's the magic number We're
wrong with bein' a witch? Can you stand a spicy lady with A little bit of magic? Yeah, they're people too and by me I might be an addict Damn it, 'cause
short on the pesos That's how the game goes Though the concrete grew a black rose Seven years old plateaued Back from the dead followed by black crows
a hundred racks, was always in my dreams Minimum a flick knife, that was always in my jeans My niggas not no pedophile, but he's always around a teen, seven
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