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Woorden: GZA. Pro Tools. 7 Pounds.

Speakin' of this art form, the slang is dangerous
MC's are like sperm cells, a gang of us
Fightin' to reach the egg, bikin' and lose a leg
Odds are like one to ten million, the kin thread

One from a thousand speaks in his own voice
The other nine ninety nine, imitates without choice
They never even knowin' it, until the goin' gets rough
See the amplified sample I'm throwin' with

I grab the microphone, the unthinkable happens
See the rockets red glare like the guns when clappin'
They still cage matchin' MC's that's scrappin'
Not the UFC, but my opponent is tappin'

So don't let a little bit of fear turn to hatred
I was sent as a savior to revive what was sacred
Also stop this uncalled for behavior
And sippin' back cats, they lactase in flavor

Got word from the wise to let it drop
Set this on fire, take aim and let it pop
Because regardless to whom or what, even with door shut
I'm givin' 'em straight raw, you bringin' them all cut

Like Bolivian rock, your watered down hip hop
Rap's so out of shape and far from tip top
Pearls next to pebbles, spoons against shovels
Dictators next to rebels and Gods against devils

No time for backwards thinkin', let's think ahead
If you wanna sleep when you awake then make your bed
A lotta MC's came to see me on referrals
Not even knowin' that they would undergo great parrels

These cuttin' edge methods from the most specialized
Faster than the last men, and before the dust'll fly
The lord of the art, strikes a chord in your heart
Your ear love to hear the God, rippin' tracks apart

Me to hip hop is like Einstein to science
A match made in heaven, most likely an alliance
Complex individual that you dream of being
Intellectual challengin', the all eye seein'

Got a appetite for heat
So then come and bite the beat
And digest the rest and don't
Stress the part, it couldn't be

Got word from the wise to let it drop
Set this on fire, take aim and let it pop
Because regardless to whom or what, even with door shut
I'm givin' 'em straight raw, you bringin' them all cut

Like Bolivian rock, your watered down hip hop
Rap's so out of shape and far from tip top
Pearls next to pebbles, spoons against shovels
Dictators next to rebels, and Gods against devils