(Verse 1: BVA)
There's a- lot of division, I ain't fazed by my so-called opposition, keep both eyes on the mission
Man, they crave for the scrilla', plus, half the new editions are just fishing for riches, they forgot about the spitting
Don't the read the bible, but Moses just parted the Emcees
Fuck the path, we're growing underground like the seeds
Form an army of like-minded breeze, from a pipeline we feed mind's integrity- is our guarantee
Heads that used to be respected bitch like Hip Hop and neglect it, man it makes me sad, but feel the need to still perfect it
Cos if Hip Hop is dead, we resurrect it, respect gets collected from a- and a-
A lot'll act 'big dick' but you can see traces of lipstick, strutting their shit like a girl that knows she's fit
So I say: control your prick, but I don't mean your penis
We don't need a new Slick Rick, Kanye West doesn't feed us

(Verse 2: BVA)
I saw rappers of art when I started and I rated
Now I still feel the love, but I done cover lots of hatred
Claim they're in this for the heads but rap like their's decapitated
Stab a back or seven in their ruthless quest, just to make it
My words'll strip you naked and throw stones at your snake corpse
I keep it real to me, so I don't bother with the rate-talk
The fake walks a big path and acts like he (?)
But comes unstuck in situations where he has to prove it
So we sit back and watch em' play themselves like masturbation
Seeing that they've learned to come but haven't mastered penetration
People picking beats because they think that sound is money-making, get the honeys shaking, but- doin' nothin' that's groundbreaking
So I see the divide between me and you, between true and without a clue, guessing every move you do
But man, I boom bap and freestyle and smoke weed daily, if that means I'm a cliche, that's just how life made me!