[Sample: "Have you heard it? along. If you didn't it you're gonna hear it right now."]
Bam, the door way for me I saw and told the story Raw day dreams of glory high, Hall way Lockin' MCs Beat boxin', breakin' Nation wannabees It didn't take long to see who stay strong school upon Some B-Boys put gang bangs on But some kept on 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 allies to In the Midwest where Is just a full In a land of Players, replacements, priests, We To MCs that may appreciate it Guided by their envy insecurity and their Separated by the gimmie props And a to be the tops this week I floss the speak Cause is cheap Even the broke can afford it That's why I close and if you're dope then I'm supportive But if not We'll keep the mic For the one Respect the And make your wishes on the born
Within the Fact checkin' to completely avoid all channels of backstepping the lines of paint on the concrete They reside on Street To the way we our eyes to sleep And drift through Space 9 type shit To find I've been for as long as sound I've been to that not so fresh And that not so state but I've evolved Metamorphed
I to be young, dumb and full of vision Like it was rituals I made decisions I to be a rapper world renown Minneap to the Bronx Capture in crowns Snap, crackle and That's I found The abyss that sits in-between the one that the mic and those that don't listen some crews Rocked talent shows at Saturdays on the 18 make my way down to the pool I met a grip of people that was Was down with a lot of that was bullshit But I pull shit the asshole of an angel before I let him hassle and The triangle between me the mic and the turntable to studios We want to make We want to do shows and our own instrumentals Do our own around with this kid Kazir Nitwit Barely knew his own equipment, The prefix was shows Made made foes Overall we made And right now as I sit here this I'm buggin' off the people in my life that made me this
the movement Fact to completely avoid all channels of backsteppin' From the of painted concrete that reside on Ave To the dead on the elevator To short in your cross fader I never got later For efforts to Just throw your hands up in the air like a I've to that not so fresh faze And to not quite so serious state Metamorph
Well sometimes it rings and I answer it it no asterisks No to find the circumstances It was in me deep It was nurtured and it it sleep and nutrition It was efficient let it There are a few have developed when I let them in my spectrum For the of em I give them just enough to cause Not on attention But if you ? welcome arms patient charms I know the words and I can spell is it When one Do they leave with interest In fact begin crave the business me to the table That's it no more no The love the the stress Slug, the mic, the Yes, I've been tested and tested some I'm not I'm the best I'm not Like the of em Just I'm better than you That's my state My rhymes take me I check one two I guess do get pissed But intentions to inspire Built the before I get tired The ones tare me down don't know it But the same ones that build me Now in your head say, "Yes you can feel me."
[Sample: "Asking himself, even the curtain goes up, what am I? I am now 80 old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, they flatter me everyday, of my life. I am now going to myself to a rigorous test in order to find out really I am. I don't care about FREEDOM? I don't about rule, anymore. It is of no to me, as such, but I must out what I am before I die."]