[announcer]
 Mr. Len  a.k.a. Space Ghost  please commence intro
 Company Flow  perform  J Treds  prepare
 El P  prepare  you have approximately five minutes
 Fuck the bullshit  Time/Warner will fall
 Record labels will fall  the Earth will crumble
 Begin

 [El Producto]
 Enter the all city access and encounter the likes of these
 Regionally no one relaxes  actual
 No wonder I'ma type to crush contenders with pure chewing satisfaction
 Pervade your ultraharmonic with the back of your whole mediocre faction
 Sonic boom head zoom contact off antaxion
 Elbowed with a vacumn pure death MC's with closed captions
 Wind up in the willows, catch the whirling dervish
 Or the dead and dumb millenium is at your service
 Flow the plaque, instigate lyrics then backfile another MC
 who thought cause he was dipped in powder blue that he could rock pastel
 Got your hip-hop essence out of the Cross Colours catalog
 while I launch technology
 Ask L. Ron Hubbard to break down my Scientology
 Fuckin up to the chest I bucks the city us Bad Touchin
 Boogie to break to bumrushin
 Fresh start taming biofeed this track achieves
 pain penicilin crack and AZT couldn't relieve
 Being Sizzlean I will trim the fat like Susan Powders
 Disrespectin burners like cap, lickin off shots from clocktowers
 Play ring around the dead nation
 The Deadhead situation, situated to see-saw creation
 MC's are helpless like Gadzook keep faggot like RuPaul
 troop to the new sensation fuck that whole wannabe gangster fascination
 The illusion is broke, or cock albums mispoke
 And got the El P rookie cards stuck in they bicycle spoke
 For those VH-1 crystalized pseudo rip flows
 Let the liquid talon soak into the seam of your coat
 Meet the professional dead or alive politrick technician
 Straight neck capital P for the deep throat dickin
 I was that first monkey to touch the Monolith, delinquent
 Up in that crack like white squaw for the weekend
 and I sunk your Battleship
 Parked in a hot zone, live to the E. Bola
 Manifest brain tumors through the phone as you roam in your Motorolas

 [J-Treds]
 All hail, J and El the fan drives, we got the grand prize
 Foes fantasize runner up, the closest they can see it because
 skills so lenient I've been boastin with half a flow
 They can't handle the whole weight son, diagnosis, bullemic believe it
 My best line, too advanced for Pop Warner
 you got cornered scouting report, can't scramble in the clutch
 But when I get down, it's third and inches threatenin to score
 How you gonna tackle the topic when you suckers two hand touch it?
 We're too damn much for your defense break you down, zone weakens
 Words bring embarassment, Captains look like third string in comparison
 to this too well known to kick fat flow
 And beat suckers straight up and down, Tic-Tac-Toe
 Game over when I blow your mind, but then I aimed over explosive cuts
 Verbal flamethrower, serving roasted nuts
 as after battle snacks you wish you wore a cup in your panties
 So all you pussies in this rap game, time to up the ante
 What's your fancy? Big time skills or small penny
 Dead to latter my varsity letter, fatter than your JV
 Only play with the big boys, toys bringin that weak shit
 Before the battle I hit em off with fat, ladies latest release on cassette
 They were done from the start
 Ran for the finish got detoured from the fast route by another
 One spot holder hold ground for our town, N.Y.
 For those who don't acknowledge they get left ass out plumbers

 [announcer]
 Congratulations Len, you have made it halfway
 They are falling, their armies are retreating
 The job is not over, you must continue, please move forward
 El P, bring out tactic evasion, start, summation equals now
 Do not fail us, we're counting on you

 [El Producto]
 For thoughts I see hot like three males with a cot included
 Where the Sidewalk Ends and all your linear math gets diluted
 Infant when he Star Spangled, packed a brand
 circular medicine and deject wreck-the-tangle
 Fuck Time/Warner and it's affiliates, for runnin that wannabe Big Willie shit
 Leave those fancy clothes up to the Pope
 List all personal posessions in your liner note
 While I connect wreck genuinely cuttin through these red ropes
 Son grip the love spigot, yeah that's the ticket
 This platoon pop 99 Luftballons
 While the one hit blunder rushes exhaust like city buses
 I bond, like resin cause for the sake of skill, lost and found
 Found by DNA patterns to wish you could climb
 Just a little girl around the way of my set, that's the time
 Enter the evil opus, focus on rap scrambling
 Record labels to expect not reaction is bad gambling
 I know a few true that make we, collusion
 El P and J-Treds pentrate cranial intrusion

 [J-Treds]
 We do this one time so catch it, two of the illest and unsigned
 Lethal seperate but combined, friction created a frontline a rhyming
 Got you steppin, tryin to evade us bustin caps in your thoughts
 But now crossfire catching's added to your job skills
 top of your resume
 Submitted applyin, for lyric positions that we occupied yesterday
 but got the pink slip, labels on some not think shit
 Requiring, brain absence lobotomy reigns/rains, rapids
 That trap gets full, by J and El evasion tactics
 Our equations infinite, punks distortin random access
 Havin half words recyclin tracks like plastic, please forfeit
 Flippin the same script, I hope it has reinforcements, or else
 it's torn to pieces while our thesis is untouched
 Saved on my PC under the filename of Funcrush
 Megabytes bumrush, by one punch, upon my keyboard
 My data's the top secret that mad suckers will fiend for
 Come from the last to be cut from Dream Team Three
 We be the ones who shine, prepare for butt, kickin
 Rarely benchwarmin throwin down, all too often
 While others barely touch rim and that's when they're butt licking

 [announcer]
 Done, job well done
 They know who we are, they know we know who they are
 They will fall, they are going to have to repeat
 Understand, they will no longer monopolize
 Time/Warner will fall, I'm proud of you, come home