That makes me know that  we we we we're doin
 We had the right idea in the beginning
 And and we just need to maintain our focus  and elevate
 We what we do we update our formulas
 We have certain formulas but we update em (oh right)
 with the times  and everything y'know
 So  y'know the rhyme style is elevated
 The style of beats is elevated  but it's still Guru and Premier
 And it's always a message involved
 "The real... hip-hop"
 "MCing, and DJing.. from your own mind, ya know?"
 "I, I guess right now we should start the show"
 [Guru]
 Who's the suspicious character strapped with the sounds profound
 Similar to rounds spit by Derringers
 You're in the Terrordome like my man Chuck D said
 It's time to dethrone you clones, and all you knuckleheads
 Cause MC's have used up extended warranties
 While real MC's and DJ's are a minority
 But right about now, I use my authority
 Cause I'm like the Wizard and you look lost like Dorothy
 The horror be when I return for my real people
 Words that split wigs hittin like some double Desert Eagles
 Sportin caps pulled low, and baggy slacks
 Subtractin all the rappers who lack, over Premier's tracks
 Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse
 So as I have in the past, I will bash
 Droppin lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax
 And one-dimensional MC's can't handle that
 While the world's revolvin, on it's axis
 I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics
 The wilderness is filled with this; so many people
 searching for false lift, I'm here with the skills you've missed
 The rejected stone is now the cornerstone
 Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home
 You know my steez...
 "You know my steez" --> Method Man
 "Let em know, do your thing God" "Keep it live"
 "To the beat y'all" --> Flavor Flav
 The beat is sinister, Primo makes you relax
 I'm like the minister, when I be lacin the wax
 I be bringin salvation through the way that I rap
 And you know, and I know, I'm nice like that
 Work through worldly problems, I got the healing power
 When the mic's within my reach, I'm feelin more power
 Stealing at least three minutes of every rap radio hour
 It's often easier for one, to give advice
 Than it is for a person to run one's own life
 That's why I can't be caught up in all the hype
 I keep my soul tight and let these lines takes flight
 The apparatus gets blessed, and suckers get put to rest
 No more of the unpure I got the cure for this mess
 The wackness is spreadin like the plague
 MC's lucked up and got paid but still can't make the fuckin grade
 How many times are wannabe's gonna lie?
 Yo they must wanna fry, they can't touch the knowledge I personify
 I travel through the darkness carrying my torch
 The illest soldier, when I'm holding down the fort
 ("You know my steez" --> Method Man)
 You know my steez...
 "Let em know, do your thing God" "Keep it live"
 "You know my steez" --> Method Man
 *repeat 4X with very last line modified as follows*
 "The mic..."
 On the microphone you know that I'm one of the best yet
 Some punks, ain't paid all of their debts yet
 Tryin to be fly, ridin high on the jet-set
 With juvenile rhymes makin fake-ass death threats
 Big deal, like En Vogue, here's something you can feel
 Styles more tangible, and image more real
 For some time now, I've held the scrolls and manuscripts
 When it's time to go all out you be like, "Damn he flipped"
 Now I'm sick, fed up with the bullshit
 Got the lyrical full clip, giving you a verbal asswhip
 Don't trip it's the gifted prolific one
 Known as Bald Head Slick -- why is the press all on my di-dick?
 My style be wilder, than a kamikaze pilot
 Don't try it, I'm about to start more than a friggin riot
 Styles unsurpassable, and nuccas that's suckas, yo
 Them motherfuckers are harrassable
 For I be speaking from my parables and carry you beyond
 The mic's either a magic wand
 Or it gets tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb
 Then I grab your palm, no pulse you're gone
 And if you thought we'd lose our niche in this rap shit you way wrong
 I stay up, I stay on, shine bright, like neon
 Your song's, pathetic, synthetic, like Rayon
 Fat beats, they play on, want dope rhymes, put me on
 Word is bond... you know my steez