[Sample: "Have you heard it? along. If you didn't hear it you're gonna it right now."]
Bam, the way opened for me I saw and told the story Raw day dreams of holding high, Hall way faggot MCs Beat boxin', Zulu Nation wannabees It take long to see who would stay strong High upon Some B-Boys put their bangs on But some kept on Step on to Others that were pursuing the same shit we we ruled in But what a The for being the best Puts a quest for allies to In the Midwest where Is just a full In a of gangstas Players, replacements, priests, We To MCs that may appreciate it Guided by their envy insecurity and their Separated by the gimmie technique And a desire to be the this week I gotta the speak Cause talk is Even the broke kids can it That's why I stand close and if dope then I'm supportive But if not keep the mic warm For the one Respect the And make wishes on the stars born
the movement Fact checkin' tryin' to completely avoid all channels of From the lines of paint on the reside on Lake Street To the way we our eyes to sleep And drift Deep Space 9 type shit To find I've around for as long as sound been to that not so fresh faze And that not so serious state but evolved manifestate
I used to be young, and full of vision Like it was rituals I initial decisions I wanted to be a rapper renown From Minneap to the Capture girls in Snap, and stomp That's I found The abyss that sits in-between the one that the mic and those that don't even some crews Rocked talent at schools on the 18 make my way down to the record pool I met a grip of people that was Was down with a lot of that was bullshit But I shit from the asshole of an angel before I let him hassle and The love triangle between me the mic and the Went to We want to demos We to do shows and rock our own instrumentals Do our own Fuckin' around with kid Kazir engineer Barely knew his own equipment, The was urban shows Made friends foes Overall we made And right now as I sit here this I'm buggin' off the people in my life made me like this
Within the Fact Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of the lines of painted concrete that on Franklin Ave To the dead bird on the To short in your cross fader I never got later For to pester Just throw your hands up in the air a leper I've to that not so fresh faze And to that not quite so serious Metamorph
Well sometimes it rings and I don't it it no asterisks No to find the circumstances It was planted in me It was and it grew Gave it and nutrition It was efficient let it There are a few that developed when I let them in my spectrum For the of em I give just enough to cause infection Not trippin' on But if you ? it's Open arms patient I the words and I can spell them is it When one Do they leave with this In fact begin crave the business me to the table That's it no no less The the life the stress Slug, the mic, the Yes, been tested and I've tested some I'm not sayin' I'm the I'm not Like the of em Just I'm better than you my mind state My rhymes me into I check one two I guess do get pissed But intentions were to the empire before I get tired The that tare me down don't know it But they're the same ones build me Now quietly in your say, "Yes you can feel me."
"Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I? I am now 80 years old, and more, and I am to find precisely what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, flatter me everyday, of my life. I am now going to myself to a rigorous test in order to find out really what I am. I care about FREEDOM? I don't about rule, anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I out what I am before I die."]