[Chorus: MF DOOM + sample]

Ash-hadu Al-laaa Ilaaha Illa-llaahu

Wahdahoo Laa Shareeka Lahoo Wa

("Ash-hadu Al-laaa Ilaaha Illa-llaahu")

Rock, rock, y'all, between the tick-tock, y'all

[Verse 1: Jay Electronica]

I came out the Magnolia like the beetle

The genie of the incense smoke from the church steeple

Mixed with the prayers of the people

("Ash-hadu")

Pollination, Subhanahu wa ta'ala Nation

Global recalibration, Roc Nation causing shock waves in the basement

7,000 kHz

With every verse I heal the Earth

With every line, I drop the tears of man into a cloud

In a fine mist until it bursts

And rain from the brain, snowflakes for the pain

The flow is just so insane, we wondering why you came

Here's a jewel, son: be yourself

Quit looking like someone else, get your dignity off the shelf

The true Jedi code is stealth, stay in tune with whatever else

The Asiatic galactic master of the atlas

Author of mathematics, civilized the savage, terrorized the clerics

Big black chief like Robert Parish

I broke the deputy neck while Metal Face shot the sheriff

("Ash-hadu")

Soul rebel in the deadly bout with the devil

Conquerin' every level, the best part is where I settle

Spread love through every ghetto, plus suburbia

Me over the track is a acquisition, a merger couldn't be any further

Woke the game up into a fervor then disappeared like the burglar

The style you never heard of, the very premise is murder

But sweeter than a Werther's, roam the Earth like Bedouins and Berbers

The great ancient goat herder, emerging through your server

[Chorus]

Ash-hadu Al-laaa Ilaaha Illa-llaahu

Wahdahoo Laa Shareeka Lahoo Wa

("Ash-hadu Al-laaa Ilaaha Illa-llaahu")

Rock, rock, y'all, between the tick-tock, y'all

[Verse 2: MF DOOM]

DOOM out the vortex to your neocortex

Your guess who spit the rawness is good as GORE-TEX

Metal Face turtleneck vest, built to support bras

Standard issue for broads, carbon like your sports car

Anybody ask—he retired

Tried to hold the Villain to task—he was fired

Fired up, his own boss on strike

Accused of using hot pepper sauce on the mic

Get tossed on a spike or cross if you like

So be cautious, leave 'em nauseous as pork sausages

Salami and some bacon, some bacon and some ham

Plans get mistaken for a scam – ah, damn, fam

Bless the child who hold his own, none could master respect

Soundwave transform like Rumble, Ratchet eject

("Ash-hadu")

It's more secret than Al Gore's wallet

Or Val Thor's comet or Style Wars, bomb it

Or that gal of yours' armpit, darn it

("Wahdahoo Laa Shareeka Lahoo")

I promise