"Good morning gentlemen. In the absence of your responsibilities

to Sanctuary Records and Tommy Boy Music, you've been left with 

free reign to conduct business as you see fit. Your mission, 

if you so choose, is to continue to do what you do best - hip-hop. 

This tape will self-destruct in five seconds."



[Pos:]

Making cash steady's on everybody's mind

DJ's spinnin our songs now decline

Rap is fast, but rap ain't cool

Hot enough to burn, yet I roll with a firm

that'll put that fire out, lower your temps

Smack you with a banana, lil' chimp~!

I'm known to run laps around your BMI and ASCAP

Put me on a tour bus, cover whole map

Leave my organs in tact when I die

But please donate every rhyme that I've fried

and baked, to them no skill rappers on the make

Who say the same shit, come in the same fit

And I'm wonderful while I'm most wild

Most call me Wonder Why for years

Got hip-hop like quarts of blood

that's the lifeflow to the very verse

Everybody say HOOOOO, for your ears



[Dave:]

Ah yes yes y'all (yes y'all) yes y'all (yes y'all)

Rock a foreign spot cause the God's so STRESSED

Brand new shoes (shoes) a brand new name (name)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ka-BAM!

B-boy stance I got the buckle on my belt

East coast reppin with the buckle on they belt

Forty-deuce flicks we had them fuckers on our belt

I'ma stay b-boy 'til this whole shit buckle

Rock'n'roll, round here we +Rocksteady+

EMC's need to +BE+ MC's

Lyrically inclined does not mean jack

if you cannot comprehend that ol' boom bap

That backyard scrap, like BVD's

Taylord's double{?}, and pinstripe Lees

That ba-ditty-ba-boom shit on hold

Now it's SoundScan spins, and who went GOLLLLLLD~!

Fuck all they want platinum

But how's that good when you lyrically wood?



[Outro:]

Yeah, mic check one two

Yo it's feedback y'all, feedback, one two

YEAH, party ain't over y'all

We just tryin to fix the technical difficulties

Crazy feedback



Way out in Long Island, yeah

Aiyyo yo, turn down the music

Yo ummm, James Morris

James Morris, your mother is outside

You, you have to go home (your mommy's outside)

I mean damn B, guess you gotta home, bye bye!

Herbie Hancock, heh heh

Yo yo, don't turn on the light man!

Don't turn the light, turn off the light man

We 'bout to get it back on, yo DJ

DJ turn that back on man

Line up with the mic, let's do it