(Uh)
 I'm going to let you touch me in a special place
 (But I don't want to touch you there)
 It is never ok to touch someone else's private parts
 Your mom and dad will tell you so
 Verse One: Bigg Jus
 Your eyes get live like Tupac getting shot in a lobby
 Most MC's styles is robbery of my freestyles as a hobby
 I pick apart monkey brains and spread disease through hot zones
 My cameos on promos seem strange like someone's not home
 Bigg Jus the outsider rain on your dream field
 With styles so freaking wet niggas need maxi panty shields
 Expose more moes out the closet that lead paint on your tenement
 Got more Black Thoughts in my Roots than most niggas got in their
 pigment
 It's the baby-faced lieutenant with the luck like Luciano
 Hardcore like Kool G Rap music made for concert piano
 So dust off the candelabra, hip hop's version of the super Don Dada
 With the license to give more ass whippings than Father
 You couldn't see me with binoculars, cover myself like telepathy
 Make most crews disappear like blackheads on Oxy creme
 Under the lights I fuck up mics with my uncanny ability to heat seek
 Through brain facilities with the science of microchemistry
 This history of my hip hop is too deep to be dissected
 Bitch recollect don't even half step or try to test it black
 Bigg Jus, I drop so much shit my anus needs an ice pack
 In fact I'm all that, El-P yo bring the horns back
 (Yes)
 Right through the center of your focus picture a long silver needle
 (You are correct sir)
 Piercing the outer lens of your eyesight
 [El-P]
 And once again
 In one verse we have proven
 That we can rip all these signed big budget motherfuckers
 (89.9)
 Peace to Stretch and Bobbito
 (Bob-bi-to!)
 Verse Two: El-P
 Ye olde lyrics of fire
 Surface bonds from X-Wing fighter stance to B-boy
 Actions fratcture negative thirty below wind chill factor
 The counteraction is just a helpless action of the hapless flinching
 My supersonics leave you mute like Maggie Simpson
 Taxidermist El-P I defy translation
 Instigate and set in crates(?) throughout your whole situation
 Practice exposing perfection like Ricki Like exposes white trash
 My shit is strange X-file number 2-6-7 whiplash
 Triple felon emcee minus the melanin
 When I bomb it the type of shit to make Baby Jessica jump in the well
 again
 Sunshines or rain acid, El-P the battle master
 Lactose breaking down your fucking fractals till you're flaccid
 I'm leaving Las Vegas like a hundred flying Elvises
 Raid, spot my prey, swoop down and cross their pelvises
 Rat nerve like David grill smoke bitch
 Catch my frozen frame suspended
 You couldn't even fuck with my idle fidget
 My birthright I'm pulling swords from stones high tone beam
 Phonetically abort it try to distort it and catch a silent scream,
 fetus
 The raw daddy tactics prove Krush Groove unstoppable
 Testing luck it's like sucking on lead pink popsicles
 The enigma, no one can fuck with me yet but I'm not signed
 (You wanna battle?)
 It's better to look in the
 (mirror)
 Say Candyman five times
 Candyman (whispered 5x)
 Just a promo
 Understand
 (Candyman)
 To be the man you gots to beat the man
 (It's so clear now)
 Me and Bigg Jus
 (The beautiful light)
 Company Flow clan
 (I can touch it)
 Mr. Len, 'sup?
 89.9
 Hit me with that shit some time
 Bigg Jus, Lune TNS
 The almighty El-P
 The imperial DJ Mr. Len
 Company Flow swinging it to you live for '95