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Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| So, Jesus, get off the Notorious/penis, before I squeeze and bust | 4 |
| Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show/to orgies with hoes I never seen befo' | 4 |
| Tote steel like Bronson, "Vigilante"/You wanna get on son, you need to ask me | 3 |
| Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds that's sick/Got paid off my flow, rhyme with my own click | 2 |
| On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet/Look how dark it get, when you're marked for death | 2 |
| Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye/Now ya braille in it, stash that light shit, or scalin it | 2 |
| Conscience of ya nonsense in eighty-eight/Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson | 2 |
| If the beef between us, we can settle it/With the chrome and metal shit | 1 |
| Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns/As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons | 1 |
| Ain't no other king in this rap thing/They siblings, nothing but my chil'ren | 0 |
| One shot, they disappearin/It's ill when, MC's used to be on cruddy shit | 0 |
| This goes out for those that choose to use/disrespectful views on the King of NY | 0 |
| Took home, "Ready to Die," listened, studied shit/Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue | 0 |
| Take trips to Cairo, layin with yo' bitch/I know you prayin you was rich, fuckin prick | 0 |
| They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly/make the white shake, thats why my money never funny | 0 |
| I think they got cum in them, cause they, nothin but dicks/Tryin to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks | 0 |
| Don't forget the publishin, I punish em, I'm done with them/Son, I'm surprised you run with them | 0 |
| I drop unexpectedly like bird shit/You herbs get, stuck quickly for royalties and show money | 0 |
| Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan/It's that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa | 0 |
| You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White/in tank-light totes, tote iron | 0 |
| Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin/Keep extra clips for extra shit | 0 |
| Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap/The most shady ("Tell 'em!") Frankie baby | 0 |
| Ain't no tellin where I may be/May see me in D.C. at Howard homecomin | 0 |
| with my man Capone, dumbin, fuckin somethin/You should know my steelo | 0 |
| I make it hot, like a kettle get/You're delicate, you better get - who sent ya? | 0 |
| You still pedal shit, I got more rhymes than "Great Adventure"/Biggie ("How are you gonna do it?") | 0 |
| Should I start your breath should I let you die/In fear you start to cry, ask why | 0 |
| Lyrically, I'm worshipped, don't front the word sick/You cursed it, but rehearsed it | 0 |
| And you still recoupin, stupid {*echoes*} | 0 |
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Thursday, 3 July 2008 19:33 (seventeen years ago)
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