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Artist: Eastern Conference All Stars
        f/ Tame One, Copywrite, J-Zone, Cage, Mr. Eon, Skillz
Album:  High & Mighty Present - Eastern Conference All Stars Vol II (2001)
Song:   Eastern Conference All Stars (Mighty Mi Air Max '95 Remix)
Typed by: *

* send corrections to the typist

[Tame One]
Yeah (uh) yeah (uh)
Formaldehyde sammiches
Northface gooses (ah)
South Orange Avenue producers (uh)
East Coast is the loosest
West District is ruthless (Boom Skwad nikka!)
We leave you toothless
Eastern Conference All Stars (MFC)
Ghetto stars

(Like this . . .)
The hip hop Anthony Perkins
Constantly murkin'
For certain
Excuse me
Y'all say fo' sheezy
Dawgs like me be like "WE WANT EAZY!"
Tame One be talkin' greasay
This be Tame and D Day
Burnin' more redlines than eight major freeways (vrooom)
My motto is fuck you, don't follow!
Stunts who won't swallow'll get stunt tomorrow
Oh well, I still can't tell
You actin' beat bitch, beat it
No secret, I'll murk you half weeded
My bars are like Xanaxes
Broken down the force that bring down yours
Encyclopedia Brown kick it in Co . . 

In this most aggressive art form none a y'all bastards want it
'Cause I don't paint on the canvas, I slam rappers on it
Laughin' at clowns with they demos, passin' 'em out
Pass it to me, get it tossed to the trash with a smile
Bad Boy with a long barrel that's all narrow
Shyne behind bars like Jamal Barrow
You got a cast iron stomach
Let's see how strong it is when I cock this and blast iron from it
You flow sick but too slow spittin' your coldest
I'll come up with a cure before any symptoms are noticed
You tryin' to shit on me, it's a dream
I got a weigh with words like alphabet soup on a triple beam

You want a free verse, your label was a joke from the start
You want a free beat, then put a stethoscope to your heart
You want free dick, then baby go back to your ex
You want free advice, chump shave the back a ya neck
I use threats over money so DJ's don't play my jams
Internet b-boys wanna know what race I am
Black, white, or Spanish, you figure it out
Learn how to rhyme off mine and take my dick out your mouth
It's about to get ill in here so stop staring bitch
Old Maid Billionare, Christina Aguilera's pimp
UPS is hirin' so pause the trap
'Cause my old gym teacher ain't supposed to rap

I went to my grandmother's funeral fucked up in rush
Stood over that bitch, smelled embalming fluid feindin' for dust
My baby's momma taught my daughter to ask for paper
Told her Disney World blew up so I didn't had to take her
My engineer is a dominatrix tryin' to master me
My out of body experiences got dead cops after me
How my anti-pop records get played on tv
The explanation is the same as why you hate on EC
So don't be alarmed when you see and my soundman holdin' a firearm stompin'
some bitches for a skit I'm on
If my ex try to come to a show to dumb out
I'll make the crowd beat the shit out of her before I come out

[Mr. Eon]
It's Julius Irving with word fling
Mics inverting, fuck all you stupid Earthlings
Y'all couldn't shed light if y'all were the Sun
Wipe the cum off her head and take a load off her mind
One time could never invade my paradigm
From propaganda pamphlets to the asinine
Joust with mic stands, jump over Technics
My soul got caught up in mom's ovaries
No angel on my shoulder, just two devils
Feedin' chemicals pushin' blood past  legal levels
It's the accomplice who's too obnoxious to accomplish
Leavin' you rookie fucks astonished

Yo, it's the G-h-o-the-s-t-writer
Conversin' with me, shit, it's like talkin' to fire
If you touch it it burns and y'all don't wanna do that
You can talk to it all day and it won't talk back
I still battle niggaz, so scrap ya plans
I ain't got to be in promotions to wrap your van
Cats two-way me all day to deliver a hit
But I ain't writin' shit down till they deliver some chips
If B.I.G. was here, he'd say I was "Dead Wrong"
'Cause I don't get on the radio and say verses that I said in the song
It's Madd Skillz muh'fucka, the VA Don
EC MC aka Shaquan