[Intro]

And it's like that for the nine trey. Check the script nigga

[Verse One: Blind Rob]

From the ash on my toes to the stubble on my chin

Here's the beat and the cuts [?] brought out of my pen

When I be cooling in my [?]

You better step the fuck back

Shoot like a gat got more swing than a black jack

Cause I hit hard like an automobile accident

[?]

And all the hip hop and records on the count of three

I never claimed to be the perfect or the best MC

But I just flaunt the styles to let you know that I can wreck it

I make you say, "Hmm? What? Hold up a second."

And just give me the mic, get up [?]

[?] to the back of your brain

So who me? The real G

Be like the next man, I can't stand to be like Mike

You got me fucked up with the next man

So ah, give me the [?]

And kick the fly shit, vibe shit in the nine trey fools

So now you know how I flow and watch me go

Step back and give me some room or watch the Quest after show

From the east coast down to Louisiana

[?] but don't dance like the Hammer

But I slam a microphone check one, two

You wonder how I do it, lay down the Squad [?]

You call me off beat

You call me unique

Whatever the case may be, it's like this see you on the jazz rendition

[Verse Two: Blind Rob]

It's the Quest who wanna flex so bring the tec's

When I kill an MC I go to the next

Buck buck yo' ass down with the motherfucking one, two

Step up in the square if you wanna get something bro

I don't really know why they doubt that I am skilled

Taking me for granted now what's the goddamn deal? Huh

They just don't know that I'm a pro so there's no way that you can take me

And I don't need a hacker so don't even try to fade me

Damn it seems I have to prove myself every motherfucking day

You made me talk this way

So back off, slack off, let me get my nuts off

I take you and your crew to eat a dick and make you break north

Raise about me son I ain't scared to get 'em up

You feel froggy jump, I break you off something fucked up

But don't get me wrong I ain't gon' lie, I ain't no tough guy

Just a kid getting paid for being real fly

I'll let you know that I'm the shit

With a forty ounce of Bull and a ten bag of floppy discs

Sitting in the room making beats all day

Like my man Showbiz we be Diggin In The Crates

Styles finds a break and then we scoop it

Lay it down on the EPS and loop it

How's about that? It's phat, you like yo you gotta have it G

Five bills for my man and the other half for me

Yeah, on the jazz rendition

[Outro]

And I'd like to give shouts out to my nigga. DJ Styles. Peace. My man DJ Premier at GangStarr. What up? And oh yeah, hahahah...Mike Dean...you funky playing bitch you. What up? Hahah. Yeah. Let me see. To the hood. Of course the hood. Let me see. Somebody else I forgot. Oh yeah. My man N.O. Joe. And I'm outta like 8-Track tapes. Peace!

[Devin The Dude]

After this big ole' square we'll be right back