[Verse 1: Heems]

I'm from Cop Killer, never killed a cop though

More the type to burn a spliff and eat a bag of nachos

More the type to read a novel, maybe bout Navajos

On a sunny day I'm on the block in a poncho

Venomous, extra sick, tell me how my bars feel

Talk shit, tell me how the floor of the bar feel

Young cocoa butter, I'm fresh as new car smell

Cynical lasagna loving cat, call me Garfield

Graffiti goes legit streets trade tags for soup cans

I paint Marine Green Newport packs, now who down?

Three brown, they slang tang and need a brand new van

To tour so they can make enough funds to send a Sudan

Spraying copyright symbols on yoga mats until I'm high enough

To type a bunch of rhyming words to tell you how I'm fly and stuff

Writing racial rants, Craigslist, start the race war

High as space dog, wild as three caged boars

Mom Dukes never told me to go to my room

A wild juvenile, she threatened to send me to Dehradun

That's in the motherland, her lover-dad hit me with a broom

Black and blue, at school where white kids call me dune coon

I'm still living this shit, something like a pigeon in piss

Scribblin' some lip words to a script, literal shit

Belittled, we get hit quick, your little dick

Kicked in just for giggles and shits

Seriously, yeah, seriously

[Verse 2: Kool A.D.]

Aright, what's up?

Papa watch me on Google Alerts, hi dad!

I'm at the Whitney with DJ Spooky, on an iPad

Shotgunning Schlitz in a woman's can

And catching some catch as you can

Key bumps from the bug-eyed man fan

Can, can, can you do the smarty-pants can-can?

So you think you can dance? Here is your stinking advance

Back ends, tap them, stack ends

White people, play this for you black friends

Black people smack them

Moose spoonin' with candy flippers

Whomever the edible panties fit

Gets the candy glass brandy-snifter

Shake hands with fans that demand a picture

Like "Hey man, hey man, are you Himanshu, or Victor?"

Soul dudes, show crew, home brews, call Kool A.D

Living contradictory since '83

Arkansas street, like a block from the projects

HP some more blocks from some other projects

To Alameda so we not by the projects

Now look at me, getting nods from my projects

The brother's logic is stop when you got it

But I don't got it yet, so I'm not gonna stop it

Street freak-a-leak, socialize with the fetally

Meek shall inherit the earth, Earth shall inherit the meek

You can stare at the street but the street stare back at you

Talk greasy, somebody take a crack at you

Act the fool, somebody finna laugh at you

Like "dude, I don't like your fucking attitude"

[Verse 3: El-P]

Gangster computer god, mind slut's my pseudonym

Fuck anyone giddily, giggle, simply misery

Feelings whittle bitch pitches, but where the juicy tag

First to always be the great choosy Brooklyn or Lucy Brown

Harbinger of the bum rush plus oozin' away a ton or more

Buddy cops kiss each other, Pederast priests fuck whores

Let's set the moral compass to something a little sacrilege

I'm Pirate Jenny this whole town Black Freighter, I'm maggin' this

Nobody sleeps tonight, keep your car alarm evening

Perpetual garbage truck, annoying ice cream truck jingling

(Hey young world) conscious got donkey-punched by aristocrats

Maniac, brainiac, fist-fucked in a dunce cap

Looking at it from space, you can see the race is just one lap

The tranquility now is just future anarchy unhatched

I'm on a new drug plus alternate reality

Some dimensional shifting, it's hidden from all the cowardly

Gypsies read the palm and they vomit

They give me back my dollar, hollerin "Oh God! Get out you monster!"

Mumalo covered a song and it's a running joke

My comedy is common is as greymatter converted into runny yolk

I'm not in the mood (stop) A lot more to rue (raw)

Hot rod of intoxicants (roo!) Gobblin your food (gone)

Applaud to the truthiness, truly I'm a lost boy

Half-man, half-smoke, no joke got it on Locke, boy

Take your little sad poopy-pants to the corner toy

I'm gonna bring a blaze, bleeder burn a bridge, burn a boy

Sit down!