N.o.r.e. - Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics

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N.o.r.e. - Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics

[Verse] I feel something special is about to happen Queens n***a but the meetings be up in Manhattan Move the pack fast, coupe saying "Bulk quick!" Re-up, then kick another one, bulk sh** We should have the hood Olympics, a cook off Let's see who's coke is terrific, and who is gifted With the coffee pot, they who shook the cookie jar That will seperate the hustler's from the rookies, y'all I knew enough spanish not to get jerked when i wanted work Plus, I let my gun go off Berzerk My cousins in the big houses, never had job n***as 'they was into murdering kidnapped and robbed n***as I used to rhyme as a hobby in my building lobby f**ing up ounces, take it back to quaters then Whole sales was shakim or even Shawn Watermen Fast foward got locked for shooting Hit sparfit, back when latin kids first recruting Locked in a zone, mind seperate Got a counselor, went to school with a weapon Not for Protection - but to show it off But i would really use it The power of the gun gave me strength, i would abuse it Never ever ever thought i would make it out of music Started Writing rhymes at the iner vision of youth Locked up, we indoubted golden's books My imagination, i got creative with the pen though Started writing rhymes about the streets, that was temple My persona, identify hood pride Logical, order of the blocks and the streets and the obstacles sh** work when you think about it I mean i'm still getting rap money when you think about it Yeah, rap! Probably saved my life twice with it Let's get nice with it, let's forget all the ice with it Forget the accolades and other wild things i did I was a wild kid, i would've ran up in your crib Remember War Report C-N-N legacy Hip Hop Pedigree, rhymes is a felony Student of the game I take responsibility Give me tranquility, so n***as can't belittle me I still do what i do like past due This album's from the heart, kinda felt that I had to True sh**, I do the new sh** And the true school sh**, wilding with the deuces Little guns for the little duns, y'all are Back in the leather couch, Marijuana Eyes vision clearer, I love who i see in the mirror