| [00:10.21] |
A true master like Pete Rock that love when the beat knock |
| [00:13.16] |
I'm Hip-hop from my fitted down to my Reeboks the art of rap |
| [00:16.82] |
Laying down your vision on a track |
| [00:18.20] |
While these DJ's dig for wax like some ancient artifacts |
| [00:20.87] |
Running laps 'round these cats like the record? |
| [00:23.56] |
Chin checking 'em if they don't know what game they getting in |
| [00:26.09] |
(yo!) if my pen's painting pictures and projecting them |
| [00:28.60] |
Then I guess this beat's a two way mirror my thoughts reflected in |
| [00:31.29] |
Got me questioning who on top and who's electing them |
| [00:34.03] |
Cause no one's touched my raps ever since I first perfected them |
| [00:36.57] |
Back in the day as a youngin' growing up doing shows |
| [00:39.70] |
No one showing up now we got the crowd going buck |
| [00:42.34] |
I'm a beast the type to pull the pin out with my teeth |
| [00:44.87] |
Explosive launch grenades in the middle of the streets |
| [00:47.56] |
Yo peace to all my homes rising up from underneath |
| [00:50.39] |
Stay hungry for them beats and get prepared for the feast |
| [00:52.95] |
|
| [01:13.82] |
These frauds is taunted by fate but me I'm haunted by the artists I ate |
| [01:16.87] |
I live my thoughts beyond a dollar sign's weight |
| [01:19.07] |
Beside a dotted line's fake peons without a grind personify hate |
| [01:22.15] |
You must be out of mind if I don't rhyme great we shine eons duke |
| [01:25.23] |
Get your face mushed we apes on these strange cuts |
| [01:28.05] |
So wake up and cop the tape for eight bucks you snake fucks |
| [01:30.54] |
We only let you skate once it sucks get your stage flushed |
| [01:33.10] |
It's straight but isn't making the place jump it ain't us |
| [01:35.92] |
The flows we bust is dope enough to make the jakes rush |
| [01:38.50] |
Like Michelange a master with the paint brush |
| [01:40.78] |
Back in the day I just sat in class crafting a page |
| [01:43.36] |
Packing rage like a rabid phantom trapped in a cage |
| [01:46.10] |
Now I'm a monster charged with spittin' rhymes and mantras |
| [01:49.13] |
Equipped with arms like Nicaraguan contras |
| [01:51.51] |
Call the doctors for these minors trying to live this art of rap |
| [01:54.36] |
Ironic how this beat can give a heart attack (word'em up son) |
