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THE ROOTS lyrics : "Web 20/20"

(feat. Peedi Peedi, Truck North)



[Truck North]
Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Fantastic
Masterful mind, the list that I've crafted

Fresh new trick to flip, I'm Dick Dastard
Half smooth criminal and half straight !@$(
No mask when your flag get captured

First class, take you to the rap hereafter
Gone in a flash and yet, he gets faster
Sick when he hits the Mike like Mixmaster

This the Battle of Troy with no Pastor
Slicker than a can of oil with no castor
Chill in the front of the flight, outclass them

Bring your favorite rapper to fight, I'll trash him
Then I'll leave in a timely fashion
Uh, emcees get the tiny rations

Your girl hold me close as a tiny dancer
You got a death wish? Well it's finally answered, prick


[Black Thought]
Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Sarcastic
Rap catalogue consists of all classics

Blackness, tell your (*##$ to fall backwards
$#&@ a hood pass, my %#@!'s for all-access
Killing tracks like this, we call practice

Any bull%#@! y'all twist, we call backwards
Jam boy sharp as a tack, we all cactus
Waiting on a big payback with no taxes

So if you follow the game, you might catch this
Act like an activist; you know, active
^!$$% like me just has to spit acid

Sucker like you just has to get blasted
Ashes to ashes, Frasier to Cassius
No homo, y'all some pains in the $$#es

Get turned to toast like raising your glasses
When I'm on stage, girls swing from the rafters
Often nasty like Monster Mashing

Y'all know the voice is tight, hoarse and raspy
Can't place the face, kind of hard to catch me
Kings that pull strings like Dorothy Ashby

Jawns keep telling me I'm great like Gatsby
Caught like a felony, you can't slide past me
I'm low-key, kind of anti-flashy

Then I'm OG up in a black tie classy
Sun Tzu to Sun Rai, Gargemel, Mumm-Ra
Son of a shooter letting slugs from a gun fly

Should call a Mumbai with the bumbaclot
It's Black Thought, my sound's hard to come by
Last spotted on a yacht getting dumb high

Banging yacht rock with my squad from 215
Straight calling ^!$$%s out like the umpire
Any chump try'na front, (word 'em up)


[Peedi Peedi]
Jam boy magic, Mr. Get-Busy, you get busy too?

Then get with me too, we'll get busy, dig me?
Smooth Remy, tool skinny but hold plenty
.22 long contact, new Bentley

No miles yet, curve backs and cruise and he
Bring it back when you through with it, roger that
Grip tenny, French mammies in Vic' panties

Lips candy, dick hard as a fifth of brandy
Hop in it for five minutes, then I'm finished
'Cause #~!!@ is pleasure, but I'm attending my business

Retractable roof, magical coupe disappearing
And reappearing, German engineering this McLaren
Hot jacuzzis, watching movies, glock and uzis

Shots of Louis, busting cuties popping jeweries
Ooh ooh, Ultramag' MC in a M3
Whole body tatted straight up out a MP

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