We gon' keep it raw



[Verse 1]

I'm a b-boy, that's the best way to define me

Born in 81' been rhymin' since the early 90s

And I don't plan on stoppin' any time soon

That's why fools try to be down with my crew

But you recitin' feeble(?) chatter, either that or beatin' off

Peace to No Name, breathin' patterns that'll leave 'em lost

I keep a choke chain on the peoples thoughts

Teach the whole game how to read between the chalk

Okay we so crazy don't play me just pay me you babies

I break teeth on fake freaks(?) and maybe, just maybe you might live

That's solely dependent upon your mic skills

You rap slowly homey, no regard for what's ill

Still I hope you're not the nicest of your teammates

I'm your worst nightmare, you like a whack emcees dream date

A walkin' target, plus an awful artist

What you talk is often fuckin' garbage

The public regrets the fact they have to hear your music

What you call spittin' looks more like unvoluntary droolin'

Say I'm stupid for entertain rumors

But I heard you give your favorite producer

head in trade for his creative juices

We makin' music, just tryin' to put the fun back in

Turntablism, lyricism, ain't no gun packin'

It's hard to swallow, even my simple sing(?)

So biters not recommended by 9 out of 10 dentists

I step on snakes and yes I'll make a mess on tape cassettes

With my brother ain't no other quite like my mel'(?) or my man

So Abilities, let me hear you make some funky music with your hands



Ooo you love it!



Wall lights(?), solo, drums, and vocals

Guaranteed to put your attention span in a choke hold, peace



We just representin' for all the hip-hoppers worldwide,

Emcees, DJs, b-boys, raff-writers, everybody in the house

Yeah, Blueprint in the house

Uh-huh, Day Light in the house

Uh-huh, E-Wok in the house

Yeah, Mr. Dibbs in the house

Uh-huh, X-Cal(?) in the house

Uhh, Abomination's in the house

Uhh, Head Shots in the house

Yeah, Rhymesayers and we out, PEACE