[Intro: News Reporter]

Here outside the courtroom, we see that tensions haven't really eased that much in the Breez Evahflowin’ against Hip Hop trial. We hear he's brought in three star witnesses: Swave Sevah, Big Zoo, and Immortal Technique. As for what may develop today, no one knows. But we hear that the prosecutor is trying to bring the case to a close. Let's see what's going on inside

[Verse 1: Breez Evahflowin']

Yo, yo, when I be stressed, get irie blessed

Become a ten-headed dragon with fiery breath

Strip the flesh off your wiry chest

And play the game to the death ‘til the high recess

And even sober, it's over my man and

You ain't killing no one like Cobra's cannons

No understanding of divine divinity

The ministry, the rhyme refined for the trinity

Of Zoo, Sevah, and Immortal Technique

So advanced, live on the borders of next week

Talking 'bout you doubt I'ma win on this next piece?

Don't come/cum out your mouth like the chin on my ex freak

Rick slam a flow so sick in your headpiece

Get fans to sell little sisters to get seats

Black Static, this ain't even his best beat

Wait ‘til this shit become a full time job

Leave y'all rap niggas broke, talking 'bout "times hard"

Blind and scarred from collides with my squad

Bloody like foot of Bruce in Die Hard

Real life for your eyes, you’re finding, “My God

Why hast thou forsaken?”

I've been no short, taking since Biz made “Making

Music with Your Mouth.” Love is a house

I kick y'all out. Get the fuck out

This hip hop, nigga

[Verse 2: Swave Sevah]

You want to battle? How you want it? Freestyle or written?

I wouldn't lose to you if you wrote the verse I was spitting

Play your position or get hurt ‘til it blur your vision

Kid, you'll get knocked in your head so much you'll lose focus

Like, “Yo, you look dizzy. (Yo, you alright?). Let me help you a little

(Ayyo, you, you alright?). Aim for the Swave in the middle"

(I’m right here) But even if you do listen

You got no aim—point blank range and you still missing

My flows put a hole so big in your chest

You'll think it was caused by the projectile of a jet

My style is a threat. Smoke, pop bottles, get wet

The more polluted I am, the more violent I get

Weapon of choice? Any kind of writing utensil

Work wonders with the ink of a pen or the lead of a pencil

Memorize what I wrote, then spit it (Spit it)

Put emphasis on my action words so you don't forget it

Leave your ignant ass soaking in it. We're here to subtract

Wack off the face of the map and you going with it

I'm so committed. That's why I'm always out to brawl (What?)

And be slurring vulgarities out my mouth at y'all (Fuck y’all!)

Sure to burn like a lantern about to fall

Like rats with razors attracted to alcohol

What you wanna do now? This shit could get crucial

I'm persistent with new style and resistance is futile

My advice to you now is: try to elude feuding

And take everything I say as serious as school shootings (Columbine!)

If not, you’ll end up a statistic. Another target

That was marked for death I just scratched off my hit list

[Verse 3: Big Zoo]

Yo, I write night lights for cats to stay awake to

Brutal barbarian, black bear, break you

Four-hundred-and-fifty-degree style—bake you

I can only lead you to the water. I can't make you

Drink from the fountain of truth. You start spouting

The truth. Your fake friends start doubting the proof

I bring Stout in the booth when I feel dark

I got a bulletproof spirit and a steel heart

I got a cranium that's reinforced with titanium

Working to control these ill thoughts

That I fine tune whenever I write a fly tune

On point like gunshots, blast at high noon

Many moons ago when Zoo learned to flow

And first burned the show, the name grew. You know

I stayed with it, denounced the foul critics

I left cynics, all emcees who need gimmicks

They ride didicks. Emcees are sound mimics

The black bear acidic with the lyric. Now

On and on ‘til the break of the dawn of a new day

Emcees, we’re headed this way

[Verse 4: Immortal Technique]

Niggas think they smooth now but they need to be told

To never endeavor to ever go platinum or gold

Couldn't get any respect no matter how much you sold

The type to lose the battle and start acting five years old

Or play the role with gang images, trying to be trife

Your album's never coming out like niggas that's doing life

You try to leave the cyph', but Technique take you to trial

Exhibit A is the psychological profile of your style

You pretend you had it harder than the people in your clique

Always talking ‘bout your guns and the bitches you stick

But you was locked up in prison with a faggot sucking your dick

And cheating on your baby mom with anything you could hit

Claiming you got a record deal but can't rap for shit

You perpetual hypocrite. You failed to get the message like

Niggas that's illiterate. You're too drunk to talk

Look at the nonsense you spit. You sound ignorant like Five Percenters

Talking my ear off with a mouth full of Smirnoff

Stumbling, falling over. Bragging about expensive clothes

And your Range Rover. Motherfucker, come back and talk

To me when you're sober. You stay coked up like the first

Version of Coca Cola. But on every day out of the solar year

I'm the controller. And your life is going nowhere

Like a broken roller coaster. You don't own a gat. Your people use you

Like a gun holster. So put the mic down and cut the beatbox, nigga

Take off the fake Rolex and the Reeboks, nigga

The only biscuit you got is in a KFC box, nigga

The rigorous job of proving these niggas fictitious

Was handed down to Technique and Breez. We get vicious

I expose alleged hard rock niggas that turn snitches

And emcees that play themselves like cheap talking bitches

Talk about nonexistent riches because the label makes you

The same fucking label that monetarily rapes you

But I came to liberate you with socialist revolution. I'm Khmer Rouging

But you're weak, acting out in confusion. You're losing

So fuck having a truce with you ‘cause I don't care about the things

That you used to do, the airport that you supposedly boosted through

Or the pathetic hardcore drug abuse you do. Yo, I'm not an alcoholic

But I'm used to brew. But I wouldn't even drink a fucking deuce with you

We don't want to produce you. I'd rather watch you splatter

I'm the infinite dark matter that puts stars in their place

I’ll run with a DROP Squad of niggas saving my race

Stomp your backstabbing, coward ass into disgrace

[Interlude 1: News Reporter]

(Yeah!). As you can see, the court room’s exploding with excitement back here. (Come on, baby). I-I-I think they've made their case. (Whoo! Yeah, hip hop!)

[Outro: All]

Hok 2 spit (x3)

Y'all ain't shit