[Chorus: sung 2X]

I don't care, as long as the bassline's pumpin

The drumline bangin away

Make one move and I'll blow you away

One false move and I'll blow you away



[Black Thought]

Yo - I don't really know but somebody said

that the O.G. flow, it could fuck witcha head

And the po-lice know that the green black and red

too strong to con-trol, they study what I said

Dig it - my name is 'Riq, and when I'm on the mic

I'm known to spit somethin that these MC's hate

I couldn't care less what you feel what you say

Cause I gotta put it to you in my own special way - I'm a MONSTER!

You know I'm certified sick

I came from the corner where nobody got shit

Took the cards I was dealt, turned it into hot spit

Now I'm not only a passenger, I'm in the cockpit

Been a long time comin, I was caught in the scramble

of cats, tryin to do the same thing that they man do

Eagles born to fly, real is made to ramble

"A Dangerous Mind," I'm a prime example



[Chorus]



[Black Thought]

Superfans wanna run up on me sparkin the ground up

You need to fall back, could be NARC's around us

You in a hot area for marchin powder

If you holdin chowder, just walk without it

Them real crook brothers don't talk about it

They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid

I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem

They made a lot of money, they money never made them

The game of survival is filled with rivals

Knives and fo'-five slugs flyin in spirals

The wicked is diseased and it ain't all viral

Could be greed and gluttony bubblin inside you

Dawg, follow your pride, the rhythm'll guide you

Yo, follow them guys, them niggaz'll rob you

And have you up in somethin that dont' really involve you

But you don't give a fuck you wanna pump the volume, I know



[Chorus]



[Black Thought]

Yo, aiyyo the waistline thumpin, the face kinda jumpin the game

Lookin sweeter than a bassline bumpin

Don't come 'round me sparks and waste time frontin

Them trick ass marks'll get the eight-five dumpin

It ain't really bout nothin - Philly just love cuttin

They shut shit down before the law start shuttin

Get your route right cousin - be out nightclubbin relaxed

And wanna get lights out tonight brother, perhaps

It's the percussion that keeps shit, kinetic

For some it ain't as fame, more sweet the street credit

Some cats that play dirty didn't live, to regret it

But move to the music he can live through the record

I'm a Philly boss player, a dope rhyme sayer

It's Black Ink back gettin cake by the layer

by the stack, comin at us, get your weight right yeah

If not, you makin a mistake right there, f'real



[Chorus - 2X]