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Yo, why you chaps hangin' round my hood, all greasy like Tony Slattery?
You think you can get in my good books wit' ya sycophantic flattery?
You think you can match my flow, my skills, my lyrical assault and battery?
You living in Vanity Fair, son, like William Makepeace Thackeray.
(don't think I've quite got it yet...) |
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