[Erick Sermon]
 For she's perhaps quite clever
 On the mic  I'm Wizard  call me Chris Webber
 Scary  wise  I'm way past terror
 I make like Jay Z  then Roc a Fella
 Rock 'em out the club
 Then buy 'em a bottle of champagne
 From the bar compliments of E Dub
 I be the one to cause the confusion
 Twist your mind to pieces
 Make ya think I'm losin'
 Yeah  niggaz try to provoke me
 But  I'm a tower god
 So, there ain't no hope
 Bitches like dope E
 So, I resume, If they step
 I Buck-a-Shot like I'm Black Moon
 Let me ask you's, Y'all Feel That like Erykah
 Control the states and make a Def America
 My styles legit, peep the steez a bit
 It's official, like a licensed .45 pistol
 Word to the Preacher's Wife
 I got the power to annoy ya
 And keep them shiesty folks on point
 I'm the butler, servin' MC's
 Because I love to
 N-O, quote, You're a Customer

 [Redman]
 I put you in your right mind and frame
 I de-rail tracks and rappers like Doc designed the train
 All aboard with the Def Squad, if you can hang
 My name be precise range, when I aim, I flame
 Fuck a gun, when I was twelve, I was bustin' 'em
 Young, just wanna have fun, like little Just' and 'em
 But, Doc never trusted them hoes, double crossed me
 Foes, I take it to the nigga, started you hustlin'
 Whether it be weed, dope or coke
 My athlete flow make Doc show, soak his toes
 Make niggaz bow down, when I'm drunk off Gold Crown
 Pull out the pound, bust off my ro-ro-ro-round
 Jump out a tree, land on your neck
 From the moment you start pumpin' Redman in your deck
 You be like damn, that's what I ride for
 If I apply more pressure, it'll snow on July fourth
 Son spark the spliff, bark the fifth
 The tracks make acrobats lose their arch and shit
 If you came to brawl, we love to get involved
 My squad lickin' hard for all white people to jawl

 [Chorus x2: PMD]
 MC's it's the final countdown
 You look tired can you go the round
 If you can, I'll slap your hands and give you credit
 If not, I'll turn around and say forget it

 [Keith Murray]
 Yeah, nobody rock harder than this
 Closed jaw, stoned face, mic extremist
 And, I doubt it
 You could kiss my ass and make a love song about it
 Cause, I'm 'bout it and their livin' without it
 Yeah, wantin' to battle with me, as hard as it gets
 Get niggaz in jail watchin' Soul Train
 Turn off the TV, lyrical vet
 Flippin' twenty-six letters of the alphabet
 You talk shit, you deserve what you get
 I'm heart-throb, leave you dead as a door-knob
 Not a hip-hop cop and not down with the Mobb
 Capable of handlin' multiple responsibilities
 Simultaneously, with communication capabilities
 From high-class to mid-class to low and greedy
 I will instantaneously bust an MC
 The non-forgetter, hit you with the one hitter, quitter
 And make you exercise your shit up, nigga

 [Jamal]
 These niggaz is ridin' dick like rodeo, their homos
 Who wanna toe-to-toe, fuck the studio flow
 Def Squad click, a thug nigga, chug a lot of liquor
 .45 slug sender, half spreader, cash getter
 Represent for the real gangsters and drug dealers
 Know half your little rap and I'm cappin' and slappin' niggaz
 Same niggaz takin' this squad shit for a joke
 Pull the pistol 'bout to smoke, they choke, blood spill at the pope
 Their cowards, gettin' rained on like a shower
 Live form NYC, E, Red keepin' me, Mally G
 Master the ceremonial, off the meat rack
 Call you weak, keep gats, pandemonium
 Phony tough Tony ones, we dip dip die in the place
 House, that was some hardcore rap
 Realer than black, black baseball bats and black gats
 'Bout to black out on all you wack cats

 [Chorus x2: PMD]
 MC's it's the final countdown
 You look tired can you go the round
 If you can, I'll slap your hands and give you credit
 If not, I'll turn around and say forget it