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Text: Dr. Octagon. Dr. Octagonecologyst. 3000.

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I crank up lyrical flows, spit spats, what?s that
The pattern records, don?t touch the dats, yo
Check out the pro skills, medic fulfills
Contact react to style I?m back you lack

Channels and handles, automator?s on the panels
Turnin' knobs you slobs suckers like baskin' robs
Caravel don?t tell your whole crew is ice cream fudge
Rappers that budge, makin' moves step in grooves

And ride the pace
Like at thirty-three dark shades
Now you seein' me
Rap moves on to the year three thousand

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Let me shuffle red red red
See the black heart it ain?t hard
Pick and choose you lose oops you lost
Check out the boss on Broadway down to walkways

Suckers with mics that end up with tooth decay
I, the doctor, stop ya, in your world rock ya
Heads bop, forever tunes and they won?t stop like hip-hop
Keeps growing, sick of sick of showing

Scratches in mattress business money reattaches worldwide
Deep inside stops the diamond rocks
In a million world, billion world, quitrillion world
Rap moves on to the year three thousand

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As space I?ve shown participator acts walk up clog up and mess up
Water down the sound, that comes from the ghetto
In the middle the core you tour explore experience
What is real you feel, changing ways

Commercial rap?s in the grave
Stuff on disc that?s very wack
That you saved, you think it?s good won?t go platinum
Or even turn wood, sell the cassette

Your homey?s tape deck gets wet
You my pet, my poodle chicken noodle?s on the rise
Open your eyes and see my life
Rap moves on to the year three thousand

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