(Verse 1: BVA) There's a- lot of division, I ain't fazed by my so-called opposition, keep both eyes on the mission Man, they crave for the scrilla', plus, half the new editions are just fishing for riches, they forgot about the spitting Don't the read the bible, but Moses just parted the Emcees f** the path, we're growing underground like the seeds Form an army of like-minded breeze, from a pipeline we feed mind's integrity- is our guarantee Heads that used to be respected b**h like Hip Hop and neglect it, man it makes me sad, but feel the need to still perfect it Cos if Hip Hop is dead, we resurrect it, respect gets collected from a- and a- A lot'll act 'big dick' but you can see traces of lipstick, strutting their sh** like a girl that knows she's fit So I say: control your prick, but I don't mean your penis We don't need a new Slick Rick, Kanye West doesn't feed us (Verse 2: BVA) I saw rappers of art when I started and I rated Now I still feel the love, but I done cover lots of hatred Claim they're in this for the heads but rap like their's decapitated Stab a back or seven in their ruthless quest, just to make it My words'll strip you naked and throw stones at your snake corpse I keep it real to me, so I don't bother with the rate-talk The fake walks a big path and acts like he (?) But comes unstuck in situations where he has to prove it So we sit back and watch em' play themselves like masturbation Seeing that they've learned to come but haven't mastered penetration People picking beats because they think that sound is money-making, get the honeys shaking, but- doin' nothin' that's groundbreaking So I see the divide between me and you, between true and without a clue, guessing every move you do But man, I boom bap and freestyle and smoke weed daily, if that means I'm a cliche, that's just how life made me!