[Matrix & A-Butta talking]
Yeah, let me destroy the mic device
(Natural Elements)
Make my (uhh) electrical connection
(mic device gets destroyed, mic device gets destroyed
Let me destroy the mic device)
[Matrix]
Sometimes I wish I could stop the world from spinning and step out
Of it
Kick it off it's axis and stagger these rappers off balance
But instead I challenge, by pourin' advanced skills by the gallons
I am, no one has a chance a-gainst this a-mazing
A-L-L action, also instead of babbling like gossiping bitches
Swallowing final wishes
Then hard-rock dreams, of crack cream from fiends
I verbally break-up emcees like disfunctional families
So get with this different mix, like seeds from interractial
Relationships
I draw crowds, at the same time, I erase kids
I discriminate like a racist a-gainst these basic
Lyricists that are cleaning out my wax, clogging my ears up with
Tasteless tunes, flavorless buffoons, that are talkative
Skills far from walkative, when it comes to battlin'
I don't give a fuck like a virgin practicin' sexual abstinence
Cuz in my eyes, your presence makes no appearance like absent
Students
Who went to join the uneducational rookies playin' hooky
With those perpetratin' niggas going bananas, influenced by cannabis
Your far from notorious, far from victorious, far from glamorous
Far from glorious, niggas waste time
Tellin fictious stories of what they pack on they waist-line
While I occupy minds, but leaving these rappers worn out like hand-me-
Downs
I slam these clowns, permanently, and leave competition on the hush
Like a suburban library
I'm a perfect candidate, nominatin' for dominatin' these toy thugs
Packin' a fraud gun, and a clip full of fakes shootin' full of shit
Bullets
[Hook]
Sometimes I wish I could stop the world from spinning and step out
Of it
Kick it off it's axis and stagger these rappers off balance
But instead I challenge, by pourin' advance skills by the gallons
Keep pourin', keep, keep pourin'
(X2)
[A-Butta]
Yo, I pray to God for all my enemies
I squeeze my vocal chords until my voice box lets out hypnotic
Melodies
And keep my eyes chinky like Vietnamese inhalin' trees
Believe in faith and wisdom, and stay away from Satanism
I abuse those who choose to use forms of plagiarism
Worship me like Paganism, don't decieve my brain with izm
A and Matrix got in on lock, so count your days in prison
I don't care what niggas say, this nigga A will live the day
The simple way, true lyrics, no need to let the trigger spray
Retaliate and strike back as if I was a ricochet
Matter of fact I just let my lyrics say who's A-Butta
While others try to figure ways to discover
How true brothas master facts
And how many heads my rap attracts
Counter-attack the raps like cataracts with eyesight
Get in the Zone deeper than Twilight when I grab the mic tight
What I write tonight will bring hip-hop back to it's origins
While mortal men, stay delicate like porcelain
Lyrics get sicker than the mind of Dr. Kevorkian
My thoughts are blendin' in, like camouflage war terrain
I torture your brain, scorchin' flames when I call ya name
Hip-hop is sure to change, and when it does I'm sure my name
Will probably run through your vein, I shine like polyurethane
What's contained inside my brain, I constantly put crews to shame
Then you wonder who's to blame, when you the main reason
That I hear bums speakin', leave ya eardrums bleedin'
When I hear drum's beatin', the surface of my cerebrum
Penetrates like a parasite sounds to (satelites)
(All day, all night) Lyrical syllables I sacrifice
On this mic device I get slicker than Andrew Dice
And switch ya style like hermaphrodites, from models to dykes
Why do rappers say they rappers when they all rap alike?
To me that's nonsense, that's why I drops sense when I grab the mic
And go through those rhymes like po-nine through traffic lights
My rap ignites insight which will paralyze spines
Tranquilize lines, lyricism gratifies mines
Some niggas laugh at my rhymes, but half of the time they ignorant
Insignificant fake hip-hop hipocrites, illiterate
Exquisite lyrics get deep to the touch
Get that crust out of your eyes, you been sleepin' too much
You killed my people enough, in this forbidden industry
Which to me is the epitome of what we call wickedry
And misery, me, myself and I blessin' trinity
Test me lyrically and end up, critically wounded
Bless tunes with scriptures that were written in cuneiform
My flow is legendary similar to myths of unicorn
Po-nine is really swine disguised in uniform
You been born into a world with no axis, A and Matrix with no practice
Our flow tactics will put rappers below average
While I stay above the curve
Showdowns with pronouns, plus I make love to verbs
