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Artist: Public Enemy
Album:  Muse Sick N Hour Mess Age
Song:   Living in a Zoo (Remix)

        Skills to kill
        And fill a hole, we roll deep
        Wit a frown that's down
        Low in the meddle of jeep beats
        So I'm makin a point
        Not stickin butts or blunts
        But the Terminator X
        And the rhythm he cuts
        Figure this bigger brother
        Gonna trigger the track
        No I ain't country
        And my name ain't Zack
        Step the fuck back
        Take a look at the racks
        My world is a ghetto full of tapes and wax
        CD's they only double the tax
        And makin money money
        New York city to lax
        Tell the suckers suckers
        Never ever relax
        I'm kickin in cold facts so true
        It feels like I'm livin in a zoo

        Sayin I'm down like psycho
        Wheres my rifle? Right though
        I ain't Michael, yo
        I ain't sittin on the dock of the bay
        Wastin time in a crime wit a nine
        Rather find another brutal rhyme
        It's us verses, I put it all in verses
        If the sound reverses
        I pump it up wit curses
        Fuck sittin in the back of the bus
        But don't front what we lack
        We got it loaded in a back pack
        See they can do it to a man
        But wit men suckers semi
        Think that shit before they come again
        No science to the wild senile
        Slackin cause he packin like a
        Runaway child yeah
        Would I ever try to sever, hell no
        Never would work if the
        Rhyme wasn't clever
        Wild in an isle
        Stackin high from the floor tile
        Back in the rack, where the rap never seen a
        What I gonna wanna do...
        Feels like I'm livin in a zoo

        I don't know where I'm at
        Heres a track
        I try to duck duck
        Those 3 bullets in the back
        Top 40
        Ignore me
        I him em in the hood
        Until it feel good

        But I'm all right though
        I wanna fight crazy dirty

        It's not a matter of skills
        But a battle of wills
        Pow the stick up go the quicker the picker up
        Trigga eenie meanie

        Wit the gatt that so fat
        Brrap bap bap cop dilla in a 16 wheeler
        They call me over the phone
        Che-che-checkin me out
        Takin my time
        To find a brother droppin dime
        Once again it's on
        In the paint, and I ain't givin up
        No props to the game
        And it stops in the name of the hip hop
        Reign and the pain got me goin
        Goddamn wont they even pull a
        Bullet on a pop jam