[Sample: "Have you heard it? Sing along. 

If you didn't hear it you're gonna hear it right now."]



[Slug]

Bam, the door way opened for me 

I saw ways and told the story

Raw day dreams of holding glory

Junior high,

Hall way king

Lockin' faggot MCs

Beat boxin', breakin' Zulu Nation wannabees

It didn't take long to see who would stay strong

High school upon

Some B-Boys put their gang bangs on

But some kept on doing

Step on to ruin

Others that were pursuing the same shit we thought we ruled in

But what a surprise 

The passion for being the best 

Puts a quest for allies to rest

Dead

In the Midwest where heads 

Is just a hand full 

In a land of gangstas

Players, replacements, priests, banjos

We scramble

To break MCs that may appreciate it

Guided by their envy insecurity and their hatred

Separated by the gimmie props technique

And a desire to be the tops this week

I gotta floss the speak

Cause talk is cheap

Even the broke kids can afford it

That's why I stand close and if you're dope then I'm supportive

But if not

We'll keep the mic warm

For the next one

Respect the artform

And make your wishes on the stars born



Within the movement

Fact checkin' tryin' to completely avoid all channels of backstepping

From the lines of paint on the concrete

They reside on Lake Street

To the way we close our eyes to sleep

And drift through Deep Space 9 type shit

To find this

I've been around for as long as sound 

I've been to that not so fresh faze

And that not so serious state but I've evolved

Metamorphed manifestate



I used to be young, dumb and full of vision

Like it was religious rituals

I made initial decisions

I wanted to be a rapper world renown

From Minneap to the Bronx

Capture girls in crowns

Snap, crackle and stomp

That's what I found

The abyss that sits in-between the one that holds the mic and those that 

don't even listen

Formed some crews

Rocked talent shows at schools

Saturdays on the 18 make my way down to the record pool

I met a grip of people that was bullshit

Was down with a lot of people that was bullshit

But I pull shit from the asshole of an angel before I let him hassle and 

strangle

The love triangle between me the mic and the turntable

Went to studios

We want to make demos

We want to do shows and rock our own instrumentals

Do our own production

Fuckin' around with this kid Kazir

Nitwit engineer

Barely knew his own equipment, Atmosphere

The prefix was urban

Wrecked shows

Made friends made foes

Overall we made flows

And right now as I sit here writing this

I'm buggin' off the people in my life that made me like this



Within the movement

Fact checkin'

Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of backsteppin'

From the lines of painted concrete

that reside on Franklin Ave

To the dead bird on the elevator

To that short in your cross fader

I never got lost later

For efforts to pester

Just throw your hands up in the air like a leper

I've been to that not so fresh faze

And to that not quite so serious state

Metamorph manifestate



Well sometimes it rings and I don't answer it

That's it no asterisks

No thirst to find the circumstances

It was planted in me deep

It was nurtured and it grew

Gave it sleep and nutrition

It was efficient let it through

There are a few that have developed when I let them in my spectrum

For the rest of em

I give them just enough to cause infection

Not trippin' on attention

But if you ? it's welcome

Open arms patient charms

I know the words and I can spell them

Seldom is it

When one inquisits

Do they leave with this interest

In fact most begin crave the business

Bringin' me to the table 

That's it no more no less

The love the life the stress

Slug, the mic, the mess

Testin'

Yes, I've been tested and I've tested some

I'm not sayin' I'm the best

Believe I'm not

Like the rest of em

Just sayin' I'm better than you

That's my mind state

My rhymes take me into

When I check one two

I guess some do get pissed

But intentions were to inspire

Built the empire before I get tired

The ones that tare me down don't know it

But they're the same ones that build me

Now quietly in your head say, "Yes you can feel me."



[Sample: "Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I?

I am now 80 years old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely 

what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, they flatter 

me everyday, of my life. I am now going to subject myself to a rigorous 

test in order to find out really what I am. I don't care about? I don't 

about rule, anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I must 

find out what I am before I die."]