[Intro: The Big Chill]

"I feel like everybody wants something from me"

"Yeah, tell me about it – it's a cold world out there

Sometimes I think I'm getting a little frosty myself"

[Chorus: Vordul Mega & Vast Aire]

My shell – mechanical found ghost

But my ghetto is animal found toast

My shell – mechanical found ghost

But my ghetto is animal found toast

My shell – mechanical found ghost

But my ghetto is animal found toast

Animal found toast

But my ghetto

Animal

[Verse 1: Vordul Mega]

Life's ill, sometimes life might kill

Vordul Mega, five digits, grab mics, mic strike type ill

Is life real? Yo, ahk', he builds

When life feels like Earth don't spin, whirlwinds might blend

Life's at a standstill – dangerous, 'cause man kills

And still cats visualize life ghetto-like

One mind, sometime these cats see life

Street life in complete light, and be like, 

"I'ma live life after this one crime"

One line from the Megallah blow spines

Everyone knows the city's ill, cats kill

Still black man holds nine, gotta chill, star, see A-L-L-A-H

Be the light of Surah, work hard, See Cipher, A-L-L-A-H

Adapt bars, snatch stars, and detach large channels

But our bar's handle might break mics

Vordul Megallah the cannibal ate mics

Strive, live live

Fuck five, I want a hundred and eight mics

[Break: Vast Aire]

Son, yo, son, did you see that kid, yo?

Yo, yo, chill out, man, chill out

Yo, son, did you, yo, son he pulled it out..."

[Verse 2: Vordul Mega]

Five digits, cock biddy nine milli

One floor shot, silly, spun city, one verse hit milly

Little girls spinning curls 360, living in a world shitty

Yo, they spun young, Earth now shitty

NY 5-0 might shoot black head

Nigga, sorry, I sold space suit to crack head

D.T.s operate mechanically, po-po in slow-mo

Black kids locked away, add a key

Plus one fourth pound of smoke flow

While Lockheed Fabian, Ahmed Arabian, laying in

Bodega holding drama AK, spoke like As-salāmu OK

Choking vodka mixed with O.J. 

Wig splits mad quick

Spinning 3-6-oh wave, C4 blew the door

Number eight, Summer face, tank top with a knot

Number nine said "Run the place"

Took my girl stereo – CD, plus the tape

Brooke star, don't wet that, fucked her face, lets stuff the place

Jet back to Santa Cruz, Californ-i-a

Peace to C-God locked up, cat born nine ways

Come home mad soon, live ill, life phases

Like little black girl got shot

Damn, it hurts when they spun, Earth filled with knots

Gonna make a difference, so we get locked

Caught in the shit and losing what we got

Come on black equals, equals

[Interlude]

"Do you know that you're one of the few predator species

That preys even on itself?"

[Break: El-P]

And if there's crack in a basement...

[Verse 3: Vast Aire]

Crack heads stand adjacent

Anger displacement from food stamp arrangements

You were a still-born baby

Mother didn't want you but you were still born

Boy meets world – of course his pops is gone, what you figure?

That chalky outline on the ground is a father figure?

So he steps to the next stencil, that's a hustler

Infested with money and diamond cluster

Let's talk in layman terms

Rotten apples and big worms, early birds and poachers

New York is evil at its core, so those who have more than them

Prepare to be victims

Ate up by vultures, the politicians

In a dog-eat-dog culture, that'll sic 'em

Lack of mineral, we take it personal

A pigeon can't drop shit if it never flew

Every day is no frills, empty krills, 

Broken 40 bottles and MC's with skills

I rest my head on 115

But miracles only happen on 34th, so I guess life is mean

And death is the median

And purgatory is the mode that we settle in (No doubt)

I've got that Eve's Bayou sense of touch, so I fought

To touch every hand of a fan, to read their thoughts

Battered wives, molested children

Roaches on the floor, rats in the ceiling

Cats walk around New York with two fillings

One is in their mouth, the other does the killing

I'm Vast Aire Kramer – top billing

[Outro: Vast Aire]

(Yo, rest in peace to Big L, 139)