Clones - The Roots, Dice Raw

To all the Jim Carrey-ass large co-op

KnowhatI’msayin?

Large 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

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 tecs, 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 shit’ll fuckin scare ya

But in the dark, we ran wild, so 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 niggas longevity

To make a big play, but then it might be a mistake

Cuz if I get sent to D.C., I’m sendin Dice to DE

With three p’s, so when I get out, he can see me

For real, cuz 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

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

Illadelph Isle Pensy, that’s the residency

Consistent currency, my pockets 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 resevoir, of the soul proprietor style

Messiah or, the higher law 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, seeing 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)

Dice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terrorist

Block trooper, conniseur 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, tryin to emulate my style

What grown man?

In this game, to me you’re a child

I trained wack MC’s, in camps like ex-marines

Why the fuck you think you went home and had bad dreams

Of horrifying things, that your ass never seen before?

You traveled to the realm of Dice Raw

Where clones get they dome blown with chrome microphones

It’s not your fault black, just the fact you wasn’t shown

You’ll come through this like a smurf

Unnatural it’s not from this earth

Represent well I been like this since birth

And I won’t be the last but I definitely was the first

Dice Raw big car Logan Vall sol-dier

Don’t come across that line or pay a cost

Knuckle games and hammer cocked ain’t nothing sweet or soft

Win, lose, or draw to the jaw take one

Deranged lyrical launcher, or 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 attack your glamorous

Lifestyle, I banged your head up with the white fowl

My character a product of this two-one-fifth trife style

I breeze through areas niggas would fear to walk in

Balance the talking, that galactic style as of a Vulcan

Your Star Trek ass will wrinkle

Spill these words and form into a sprinkle, cap 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 tie your name next when I start to X

Giving out flex 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 annihliate your type if you violate

Making your blood rush, your pulse now at a higher rate