Outside of me, you try to picture me

Young and black, that ain't no mystery

But inside runs deep like an ocean

You couldn't understand if I spoke in slow motion

I'm tryin like hell to get some results

But you can bet your ass that it's difficult

They try to keep it down, because I talk to a beat

in other words, because I try to TEACH

But if I talk that yang-yang shit

like "U Can't Touch This," that shit'll hit

Don't we have any morals anymore?

Or did rap take the toll out the fuckin door?

Well if it did, hardcore's back to claim it

I'ma take it, change it, FUCK IT, rename it

I got the plan, now let's make it effective

You hip-hoppers you GOT to be selective

And stop lettin that BULLSHIT slide for rap

Can't you see that it's a brainwash.. trap?

I rap a Cha Cha Cha, and I sat and watched

You liked that shit, you rock around the fuckin clock

But when I talk of education, you fear that

Drugs and such, you don't wanna hear that

First I pleased you, now I teach you

DON'T YOU DARE try to bite the hand that'll lead you

to the pot of gold, over the rainbow

Lyte'll guide you, I know the way to go

So just close your eyes and just take my hand

Remember MC Lyte has the master plan

We can go THICK, in a posse

You ain't said nuttin slick, I'm goin kamikaze



..



Inside of me, you try to picture me

Can you detect, can you see I'm angry?

Well usually Lyte don't get upset

But when I see wack shit gettin pressed I get VEXED

Turn on the video -- what's this mess?

A disgrace to rap and I'm not impressed

So just leave, get out my domain

You lame sucker, you fuckin no-name

Takin up my airtime, with that

WEAK WHACK FULL OF FULL OF BULLSHIT RHYME

so step off ROACH, or get stepped upon

Because my rhymes they spray like D-Con 4

Do you want more?

Cause I floor.. ANY emcee

that wanna gets with me

So yo, pack your bags, and skedaddle

Just walk, cause you don't wanna battle

I got the button that'll get rid of wack emcees

It's called the Brooklynizer, have you beggin on your knees

So quit takin up space on the CD rack

You better prepare, cause Lyte gives no slack

Inside of me, dwells a hundred maniacs

Waitin for the kickoff, waitin for attack

Who gives a FUCK??  Bring your posse!

Cause in the 90's, Lyte is goin kamikaze



..



Inside -- there's no flipside

Outside there's more than meets the eye

So now you know, not because you're guessin

But because I told you so, I never fess

Everyone wants to rap, what's this a wagon?

Bring your band and hop and start draggin

All you rappers, you're fuckin impersonators

Sayin I'll rap now, and learn how to rap later

No time for that, time is too short

And the rappin gift it can not be bought

A solo artist - HAH, you can't be

Maybe you'll look BETTER with a posse

But all that you're talkin, you ain't sayin shit!

So why you where you at?  I think you oughta quit

Posses don't MATTER in the 90's

Here's a warning -- Lyte is goin kamikaze!