[Verse 1: Dejuan Whaley]
Bucket of cold water dumped on all my disbelievers
Black mamba demeanor proficient in my procedure
Leader among pawns, labeled as problematic
Simply since my mechanics won't keep my people in traffic
Headed nowhere fast, and sinking like titanic
Food for thought is organic, the Savior, no need to panic
Hip-Hop saluting since my knowledge Isaac Newton, establishing a solution
Plan to conquer pollution and dilution of Hip-Hop
They don't want to hear about a struggle just a wristwatch, catching bodies with a Glock cooking crack on the stove top
Simply an elaborate plot, it's got to stop like red lights, but it keeps on speeding
The cycle it keeps repeating, our woman it keeps demeaning
Our culture was founded on a message that contained a meaning
Now all of you rappers stereotypical, compromising your people for additional residual
Satan's the god of music the written predictions biblical, apocalypse approaching getting closer to the pinnacle
911 subliminals but you label us the criminals
Despicable, we're at war, I'm questioning if it's winnable
But my apologies, you don't want to hear about philosophies, conspiracy theories and these prophecies. Who wants to hear that complicated terminology? You rather hear about how I'm stacking up my broccoli
Carnal desires and barely practicing monogamy
Pill popping constantly, could teach you pharmacology

[Verse 2: Mick Jenkins]
Alright alright alright alright (alright alright alright alright)
Yeah...
You see the plan was to smoke to this, and then forget what I wrote to this
That's just how a n***a cope with this his
Often kill them with the openness
I let skeletons out of the closet like poltergeist, I'm a pro at this
Raising the bar the way Pro Volten is, I'm at home
Feeling McCauley Caulking in this game
Six foot, 5 inches, his frame holds art
Brush strokes might start to make you feel Mozart in your veins, I run past it
WolfGang in my past tense, I just keep feeding them classics
Whoah Amadeus! That's what they saying tryna play us
Like I'm not allowed to have the passion? Like I'm talking cheques like I can't cash them?
Naw, we'll watch the rock drop and Dame Dash'em
Get your shit tapered up and tight casted in the same fashion
No need for me to switch lanes, tryna gain traction with the fuck n***as, only fact-finders in my faction
Yeah, it's Free-Nation, fallacies'll never happen on records
Seeing kings moving backwards that's checkers
We don't play the same game, we can play some chocolate factory
Tell these n***as get to stepping, fo' my n***as get to stressing
IPhones with the weapon, they'll be aiming at your Apple, fam!
This ain't no Country Western, get your Granny Smith & Wesson
That bullet was meant for you instead it hit a little girl I guess somebody missed a blessing
Yeah