Oh, what a night, yo, that I just been through I barely made it home from this hip-hop venue These two guys, no three guys, no four, yo, this posse Try to fake a move and bum rush me like a Nazi Underground club where the kids are like rolling I almost got an avalance dropped on my shoulders 'Cause I writes the fat raps and kids memorize 'em I tries 'em, this freestyle and boy, did I surprise 'em They said, "Yo, that's too hype, yo, who's he think he is?" He's supposed to be commercial like that song about the biz The kid said "Masta Ace, yo, what's the deal wit the switching?" He's b**hing, didn't like the rap I was pitching You see, he was a rapper wit a single about to drop His record label told him that he had to make it pop Take it from me, Jack, you're sadly mistaken A lot of record labels been trying to get the bacon By making a brother into something he is not And you're better off and farming on a farm picking cotton They mold ya and shape ya, they bend and they twist ya They get paid like quick fast and that's when they dish ya So homeboy, you're better off coming from the heart And letting the kids put your record on the chart You must use your head and forget what they said 'Cause in about a year, you'll be like, "Wake me when I'm dead" (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies If this was an opera, I'll probably say, 'Figaro' Black kid from Brooklyn but don't call me n***a though I rocks the jams for the young population I wonder, I wonder, can I change the nation? It's futile, so I try, yes, hoping, yeah, maybe But I can't sit home and write, 'Ice, Ice Baby' 'Cause if it comes down to, I must have a pocket I go get a day job and rapping, I'll stop it I'm never going out, so, yo, firm I am, standing 'Cause my jams are fat like a cop named Canon My rap is for the mind, it's nutritious My word is final, the final is delicious So face it as if it was a hot fudge sundae Or I'll come get mine, I guess maybe one day I gotta work hard and must use my head You'll never hit the point, I'm saying, "Wake me when I'm dead" (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies Wake me when I'm dead, hey yo, wake me when I'm dead This life is like a nightmare, I'm gonna lose my head So I make the jam that'll make me feel better I hear a lot of groups that come cheesier than cheddar But this jam is well built like '57 Chevies The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies So weigh this on ya underground scaling We be prevailing while others be failing I'm hailing from Brooklyn and I strive for the ends But I don't need a Beamer and I don't need a Benz Still I get respect for the style I'll be choosing Rapping to the soul kind of jazz like confusion I'm cruising not for a bruising but I'll break up Anything that's broiling like an LA Laker So I rocks the West Coast as well as the city, yo I got crazy flavor like a PE video Plus I got a lot of um, sk** and that's word doc With battle, who me, G? You're crazier than Murdoch Instead of confronting, you oughta be checking The time 'cause it's wasting, second after second You're so busy ripping and daring kids to shoot ya According to the Jetsons, there's no blacks in the future You better wake up before you're in over your head Tomorrow, you'll be screaming, "Wake me when I'm dead" (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up) The Masta, the Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies (Wake up)