Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
 I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
 O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

 [CLEF]
 I haunt MC's like Mephistophales
 Bringin swords and Damacles
 Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
 Abstract raps simple with a street format
 Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.
 Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion
 Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.
 I Feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's watching me"
 I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.
 And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
 Hypocrit, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.
 It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take over
 the earth.

 [LAURYN]:INTERLUDE
 See my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
 That can only get down with my crew
 And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
 We'll show you how the refugees do.

 [LAURYN]
 Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
 Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time.
 It's against the laws of Physics.
 So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics
 Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
 Whether jew or gentile
 I rank top percentile,
 Many styles,
 More powerful than gamma rays
 My grammar pays,
 Like Carlos Sanatana plays
 Black Magic Woman
 So while you fuming, I'm consuming
 Mango juice under Polaris,
 You're just embarrassed
 Cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris"
 And even after all my logic and my theory,
 I add a muthafuckker so you ignint niggas hear me.
 And you remember take notes,
 As I sow my rap otas
 And for you biting zealots, here's a quote.

 [CLEF]:(Chorus)
 Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
 I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
 O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

 [CLEF]
 You can try but you can't divide the tri
 These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe
 The magazine says the girl should have gone solo,
 The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo.
 Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
 As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start,
 For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp
 Do a cameo while everybody do the dance.
 Quick now, cause you runnin' out of lucka
 Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka.
 While you munchin at your luncheon, I'll be planning your
 assassination
 Then hit you like the Dutchmen

 [PRAZ]
 I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
 Then drop vocals on my 456 AMPEX
 Bring terror to the shop of horror,
 As she cries "Mi amor"
 The phantom dies in the opera
 And to the youngin's who carry gadgets
 And kill 6 days a week then rest on the Sabbath.
 Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me
 Then get buried like the great Mussolini
 And for you bitin' Zealots
 Your rap styles are relics
 No matter who you damage
 Your still a false prophet.

 [CLEF]:(Chorus)
 Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
 I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
 O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa