[Intro]
Date: February 10th, 1989, 5:35 AM
A young man sits in his room
Working on a formula to the perfect rap
As he punches the final program, he is labeled
As the boy genius

[Verse 1]
Hold the microphone, with an uzi grip
The rhymes are the ammo, and the brain is the clip
'Cause i'm smarter than a microchip, and the mic don't slip
When I strike your lip, on the psycho tip
I know game, so don't try to baseball
All my stakes, strokes of genius, so i'll never erase
It's a show and prove, not a show and tell
And imma show thrill, any no frill
Hold a punk MC, heavy, to a feather weight
While I lounge, because i've had the weight
The perfect place, the perfect time, and me, I get spectacular
The microphone will cross all those
Who are bitin' the rhymes like Dracula, uh-huh
Some say we bit, some say we munch
Because the Major Hold Posse look like the Brady Bunch
Because the black that retook the rap, has now returned
For mic was mine, you felt the rhythm, and now you learn
'Cause i'm the Kwam, capital K, rap it all day
I let the pause button go, and I slap it on play

[Bridge]
As the night goes on, so does this invincible, ego attempt
To conduct the first rap single, with assisting of
The slickest lyrics ever known to mankind
With drum machine carefully made into a digital sampler
He grows closer and closer to his goal

[Verse 2]
How many breaks have been used, have used, misused
How many clues, i'm still confused
9 times out of 10, I find times that win
I hit my radio, I hear the same beats again and again
When will it end, don't mean to cause friction
They say that I talk in a contradiction
Though I hook up a break now and then, know they unreliable
I compose, revise, the micro, recycle
Metamorphosis, I better offer this
Challenge to anyone who tries to come up off of this
So twiddily, diddily, from Harlem, to Italy
Rap, you in the little league, intrigue a melody
Compose, and those, so call, intros, impose
And close, points which I gather and I mean this
Lay back, boy, 'cause i'm the boy genius

[Bridge]
After his mother demands "lights out"
Kwame is forced to work in total darkness
Is this the end of a new beginning
Or will he receive a beatdown?

[Verse 3]
Peace, for I self, the lord master
Islam is my belief, and imma blast my
Life into orbit, just like a sattelite
Forfeit, get off it, 'cause i'm the man that'll bite
Rhymes, spark your brain cells, entertain it
Pain swells, make a rubric like Charlie's Angels
Take your mic minerals, hip hop vitamins
Bring a lot of men, it be a riot when
Brother, try again
I bought your grammar, my rhymes are torture
The irana, demo, corture
Red handed, can't stand it, you planned it, rhyme bandit
Beat your fandit, shut up, can it
4-3-2-1 the Kwam is on
Only book that I need, is the Holy Quaran
So I can manifest, and address
Politics, that make my wallet stick, out of my pocket thick
That's why i'm talkin' slick, so
Yo, does anyone know, why I rap slick?
'Cause i'm takin' the microphone
And bitin' my lips like Chapstick
So I can demonstrate that I'm a hip hop fiend
Mic is too rule to cool, like Edamame
Stand strong as a general, no sucker can stop me
With the straight to Gaddafi, where my cousin named Shaffi

[Outro]
After successfully completing the last verse
I wonder, was the rap world ready, ready for this
This form of music
A hip hop is aware, of the dopeness
The super def, dookiest
Kwame is such a man, a man known to the music industry
As a member of the invincibles
Kwame, the boy genius