Megatron must be stopped... no matter the cost.
Well all I got is my tongue, an esophagus and two lungs.
Skeletal system plus muscle tissue and I'm done.
I'm through. I'm finished feedin' frivolous thoughts
To my overtaxed central nervous system stretched taught.
Tighter than a tiger's tooth tucked into a pale face
Hunter from a foreign land strapped with just case after case
Of ammunnition and litigational research.
Search again, but friend I just can't be hurt.
You can wreck my spirit and k** my soul,
But then I'll check my spirit and spill my soul.
And when I pick it up you'd better go go go.
Cuz you never know when you're gonna come in contact
With a rapper, who can't afford to keep the crapper
Stocked with white paper.
And I'm not talkin' about that yellow pepper, red pepper, green pepper.
It's all the same paper (pepper) people put your f**in' brain in the midst.
Just askin' for about five minutes
To hit you with that beat box sh**.
Cuz I'm only flesh and blood and bones and balls
And skin and hair and white cell waterfalls.
Yeah this invader's a nuisance.
Dermato Fibro Sarcoma Protruberance.
Man f** it. I'm payin' this dude to cut it.
And I hope he cuts deep cuz I got fat scars to reach.
Just a needle in the back then it's back to business.
Nine to five serve as sacrifice witness this.
Witness that. An MC who's not afraid to spit fact.
Witness this.
Witness that. An MC who lays it down man just like that.
Well I've been waiting a long time just to get this off my mind.
Rhyme stuck in my throat like p**no (deep-throat) in 7-9.
Find numerous ways to intertwine,
And bind my body with the best lines cut from the script of Good Times.
Take it as a sign like The Artist, times change,
Now the softest MC's hardest. Oh me?
Da AHP be down regardless.
Flower-filled fields fuel flows that be flawless.
Say that, b**h, after your blow then you'll switch
Confessions (Professions), be in your confession with your priest like
sh**, there's no way I can compete with this,
Or even see this, try to be this.
Well stop tryin'.
Twenty Hail Maries and a splash of holy water
Won't save you from the Eastlake stalkin' fire stater.
(I know) it's hard to admit the way I flow just bothers ya.
It lodges in ya, try to grab it but it dodges ya.
You rappers fill your flows with hodge podge, then spice it up with sewage.
Rhymes so old, you need embalming fluids.
Who is, the dude who do this?
The dude who deliver dialed-in diatribes,
Duckin' mile-hile piles of MCs committing suicides.
A bunch of illiterate, illegitimate, significantly inferiority-filled fools
Who just fail to witnnes this.
Witness that. An MC who's not afraid to spit fact.
Witness this.
Witness that. An MC who lays it down man just like that.
(Lyrics were given to me by Andy Hartpence/DaAHP, they've been adjusted to the recording available on optimusrhyme.com with the original lyrics in brackets)