[Sample: "Have you heard it? along. If you didn't hear it you're gonna hear it now."]
Bam, the way opened for me I saw and told the story Raw day dreams of glory high, way king Lockin' MCs Beat boxin', breakin' Zulu wannabees It didn't take long to see who would strong school upon Some B-Boys put gang bangs on But kept on doing on to ruin Others that were the same shit we thought we ruled in But what a The for being the best Puts a quest for to rest In the Midwest heads Is just a full In a land of Players, replacements, priests, We To break MCs may appreciate it Guided by their envy and their hatred by the gimmie props technique And a desire to be the tops this I floss the speak talk is cheap Even the broke kids can it That's why I stand close and if you're dope I'm supportive But if not keep the mic warm For the one the artform And make your wishes on the born
the movement Fact checkin' to completely avoid all channels of backstepping From the of paint on the concrete They reside on Street To the way we close our eyes to And drift through Space 9 type shit To find I've been around for as long as I've been to that not so fresh And not so serious state but I've evolved Metamorphed
I to be young, dumb and full of vision Like it was rituals I initial decisions I wanted to be a world renown From Minneap to the Capture in crowns Snap, crackle and what I found The abyss sits in-between the one that holds the mic and those that don't even Formed some Rocked talent at schools Saturdays on the 18 my way down to the record pool I met a grip of that was bullshit Was down with a lot of people that was But I pull shit from the of an angel before I let him hassle and The love between me the mic and the turntable to studios We to make demos We want to do and rock our own instrumentals Do our own Fuckin' around with this kid Nitwit Barely knew his own equipment, The prefix was Wrecked Made made foes Overall we made And now as I sit here writing this I'm buggin' off the people in my life made me like this
the movement Fact Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of From the lines of concrete that on Franklin Ave To the dead bird on the To that short in your cross I never got lost For efforts to Just throw your hands up in the air a leper I've been to not so fresh faze And to that not so serious state Metamorph
Well sometimes it rings and I answer it That's it no No to find the circumstances It was planted in me It was nurtured and it Gave it sleep and It was let it through are a few that have developed when I let them in my spectrum For the of em I give just enough to cause infection Not on attention But if you ? it's Open arms patient I know the words and I can them is it When one Do they leave this interest In most begin crave the business Bringin' me to the That's it no no less The love the life the Slug, the mic, the Yes, I've tested and I've tested some I'm not sayin' I'm the I'm not Like the of em sayin' I'm better than you That's my mind My take me into I check one two I guess do get pissed But intentions to inspire Built the empire before I get The ones tare me down don't know it But they're the ones that build me Now quietly in head say, "Yes you can feel me."
[Sample: "Asking himself, before the curtain goes up, what am I? I am now 80 years old, and more, and I am determined to find what I am, what I amount to. They me I am everything, they flatter me everyday, of my life. I am now going to subject myself to a test in order to find out really what I am. I don't care about I don't about rule, anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I find out what I am I die."]