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Artist: Classified f/ Dan-e-o, D-Sisive
Album:  Union Dues
Song:   Yuh Ded Now
Typed by:

CHORUS (x2):

T-Dot, we be comin' to blow the spot
Hal-Town, we be comin' to break it down
D-Siggy-Sisive killin` It! Dan-e-o Killin` It!
Class killin It! Yuh Ded Now!

VERSE 1: D-Sisive

Hey yo, I had it up to here with y'all weak ass rappers
T-dot home of the original four eyed cau-casion assassin
It's time for some action, forget the relaxin', throw your hands up
D-Sisive makin' it hot like Los Angeles
Snatch crowd reactions without even askin'
Amazing, ain't  nobody ever gonna phase me
I've spit the ill shit since the days of “J.A.C.”
And that's word, I make kids run
To their base, bang my shit from Len to “Dim Sum”
Switch up to Mastermind, 50, 49
It's D-Day, when that shit's done, rewi-i-ind
One love from Classified and my man Dan-e-o
They can't wait for greatest show
Anybody disagree, then y'all better lay low
T-Dot, Hal-town, Canada remain home!


VERSE 2: Dan-e-o

Yo, from T-Dot to Halifax, we rock with battle raps
Please stop your chatter black we seize spots and shatter cats
Freeze blocks and rattle cats, scatter jack
Matter fact I`ll visit any habitat you rappin' at and splatter that
Handle that, you best bring your best stuff bredren
Or look wacker than that black dude in S-Club-7
Got stress plus tension from these people who be starin`
Always askin' for weed throwin' dap and steady swearin`
They love my music, only for the underground they carin'
But ask them if my CD`s in that backpack they wearin`
Spare the keep it real talk, I`m killin` crews with chronicles
Been burnin' tracks long before downloading was possible
You geeks aint logical, now what chu hopin` for?
Hip-hop to stay dope and raw when you never go to stores?
Fuck it, I'ma flow for sure, even if you don`t support
I`ll survive longer than Kucha and Ogakor


VERSE 3: Classified

Eh, yo let me rep myself, burnin' tracks T.O. to Scotia
Mom pissed ‘cause I never grew how I supposed ta
Rhyme flowa, used to catchin' cold shoulders
Now I'm spittin' vocals, ridin' tracks like roller coasters
Come in to this game, tryin' to prove that Class matters
Now I got these college kids who feel me more than backpackers
Still the same cash lacker, hat backwards, backed by FACTOR
And still disposin' wack rappers
The track master, take you on and laugh after
Last chapter, now you finished wack bastard!
Gimme a mic son, had too many chances
Rappers come and go and I just gave you leave of absence
Takin' your finances, spread it where it's needed
Now everybody in my crew is blazed up and weeded
I never regret what I say so leave it
Sayin' I'm commercial, how the fuck could you believe it?