Rock on with me, palms itchy, calm-ly
I'm just gon kick it on the Afrocentric ganja beat
That's cause it's dope and I'm open from here to Oakland
You mope and my emotions seep into ya hemoglobin
But ugh, no pain or agony no scary shit like Halloween
If a n***a gossip he just get alot of magazines
From people in the hood, good, that's the craze
They don't like you so they crop you out the picture like a slave
With the cotton, a lot of people gotten spoiled rotten
My race, by itself, reawake the downtrodden
Jotting, all these lines of my Oblongata
And I do what I gotta, fucking google Bambaataa
We revolutionary, to all these liars, man the truth is scary
Beauty only flows in the open like a loose canary
My crew apparently is bringing it back
And we ain't singing we rap, let me sling you this crack
[Hook]

So, that pop stuff ain't no future in that
I swear we gotta rock on for the future of rap, (x4)
[Verse Two]

I feel like putting on some ice tonight
And I'mma cop it long as the Sean Price is right
Fly I'm nice in flight, prove me that rice is white
Just gon creep up on you n***as like a lice in night
Chill, slightly disgusting, my combustion, will function
Over a luncheon, where percussion beats with bass until concussions
Diagnosed, crying hosts, try the most, grimy quotes
Were given at the moment of a Romney or Ryan vote
I'm maintaining all my fame and I'm aiming
For a future where all slavery can gain the proclaiming
Of emancipation, my transformation as an artist
Attributed to all them n***as with me since I started
On my path, do the math, I'm exponently potent
Let it be noted, that my poet gun is infinitely loaded
With decoded, messages of effortless lyrics
I don't eff with all your music but I mess with your spirit