(feat. Baby Black, Rahsheed)



[Baby Black]

Who got the live rhyme flow, kick like Tae Kwon Do

Dime wit the bomb show, let the Messiah shine glow

Off of twenty ? Cubans, twist that shit

Let the herb hang out of two winds, what the fuck ya'll doin?

You're new when it comes to this rap shit

The fact is you backwards, fuck your signing power and your track, bitch

I smack kids for less than that (guessin that)

Ya'll niggas jealous cuz we blessed in rap, stressin that

Finessin tracks ain't a thing to me and E

We can take shit back to 1983, when you saw the Baby B

Crazily, ten years later, D.C., '93

Hotel lobbies walkin by me like five-three

Tryin to size me, my eyes see, what the wise see

On some grown shit is what the fuck Ill-Advise be

He who tries me be comin through on diplomatic immunity

The simple fact of what ya'll couldn't do to me

Ya'll unity be two or three, my crew and me be two-thirty-three

Whole community's a truancy to do dirt and flee

What it be nigga, explosive

Ya'll come like Muslims on Christmas

Wit no gift, no spliff I still blow shit, what

'Scuse please, don't mean to step on toes

Lyrical anti-perspirant  keep ya'll wet from flows

Put the needle to the wax and let the DJ know

Gotta let it go, never drug TKO



[Chorus x2: Mr. Eon (Baby Black)]

[Together] It's open mic night, callin all MC's up

[Together] Roll them trees up, keep them hooker knees up

Now Baby Black where you at? (Mr. E where you be?)

[Together] Worldwide, Illadel out to NYC



[Mr. Eon]

I never toted no mac, ate a thousand Big Mac's

You wack because you lack essential facts

Or scriptures, got a thousand words for your picutres

You think you ripped yours, well I got ripped drawers

Said I'm shittin from the sky wit your umbrellas up

Got more spunk than your fuckin dumb fellas, nut

Your princess is moist, big girls need a hoist

See I got this ill tape for you and your boys

Included is Mi and I vocalist

And my man Alchemist wit the green that I twist

I shoot from the hip wit no use of the wrist

I guess that's why when I ball I shoot bricks

But when I shoot gizz I can't miss the eyelids

I bring it to the headpiece and that wig

Not to mention ascensions, the inventions (like what?)

Baby Black and Mr. wit intentions of other dimensions

Do you really know E?

Can you tell that I be the one like Obi?

Bring all your zombies, I'll re-bury em

And we will even see the fuckin third millennium

I be the High one and Mi be the Mighty

That don't mean that Milo don't get high wit me

That's the way we get down so fuck this etiquette

We be shittin on fools, givin em diarettes



[Chorus]



[Rahsheed]

Behind the mist, peep the relic of rap

Feelin this vindictive orantor unmatched

The sound crash, Alkaholik like Tash

Puff stress like Meth till I run out of cash

I unflash mad skillls to build my own deal

My estate, fly ball left field

Triology spill so it permeates funk

Two dutches of skunk, straitjacket pre-shrunk

And listen to dialect because I talk drugs and sex

And then again kick a rhyme for respect, you eject

Give the open mic night style

Peace to Jazzy Joe, Paul Yams, and Star Child

'86 baby



[Chorus x2]



[Mr. Eon]

Home Field Advantage throughout the playoffs

Mr. Eon, get his sway off (And one)

The Alchemist twistin

Might Mi strapped in for the mission

Baby Black