One hundred twenty-three BPM

[Intro: Aceyalone]

Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one

The Good Brothers has just begun

In the place to be, rockin' every one

Let's go!

[Chorus: Phoenix Orion]

Yeah... say you want to be a superstar

GB's, that's what we are

Clonin' styles, you can't get far

You shot-callin'? Meet me at the bar

You think it's easy bein' a real GB?

Been in this game for years, you can't see me

You cats are wack and I'm sick of your crap

It's like real rap is gone and we're bringin' it back

[Verse 1: Busdriver]

You're just cloned sheep in the Southland

Havin' to comb the beach for Cal trends

Another bones reacher of SoundScan

A cocoa leaf and a thousand strands

Of dominant genes, a pocket of dreams

Of making operative machines, another federal database

And talking to teens who'll march and scream (Scream!)

Women walk in the scene and spread our auction wings

They know they're any and everywhere possible

Wolf-out form over a rare, volatile stare

Seepin' into every pore and their follicle

Microwaveable playlists affect your homeostasis

Come on, the homies await us

At the Afterlife baggage claim

Not for the average lame

But for the Good Brother

You're aware that UFO's could hover

[Verse 2: Aceyalone]

Well I sat at the back of the RadioShack

With the axe and a fat sack, hat to the back

And a jack, could've sold crack, could've rat-tat

Nap to the throwback, to the road trapped

Blown that back like a flapjack sap

But I'm black and acrobat and I know the facts

Some are wack, some attack, some'll break a back

Good Brother rap – on the attack, huh!

[Chorus: Phoenix Orion]

Say you want to be a superstar

GB's, that's what we are

Clonin' styles, you can't get far

You shot-callin'? Meet me at the bar

You think it's easy bein' a real GB?

Been in this game for years, you can't see me

You cats are wack and I'm sick of your crap

It's like real rap is gone and we're bringin' it back – ah!

[Verse 3: Abstract Rude]

This far, can't give up now

It's hard to make it in this town

No car, you can't around

Guitar surround sound

That's all that's calmin' me down

Pickin' me up off the ground

Hitchhikin', scooped up by a trucker, "Can you get me to the Greyhound?"

There's no escapin' this life, you chose your fate

You made your bed, lay your head

Good Brothers gonna wish you good night

All the sacrifices it took to put you in the place

Where you could win the race was

Well worth the wait, 'cause we paid the price on these mics

And can't nobody fade us

[Chorus: Phoenix Orion]

Say you want to be a superstar

GB's, that's what we are

Clonin' styles, you can't get far

You shot-callin'? Meet me at the bar

You think it's easy bein' a real GB?

Been in this game for years, you can't see me

You cats are wack and I'm sick of your crap

It's like real rap is gone and we're bringin' it back!

[Verse 3: 2Mex]

2Mex, altruistic, alter the future in the not-too-distant

It's not accidental, it's occidental

Ox in the meadow, rock over raw toxic instrumentals

Tactical Eskimo, attack of the invested flow

A murder sack of murder, all the infested grow

2Mex accelerant, without the use of an irrelevant amphetamine

A veteran of the ancient art

Of the doubled down, level-header, letter spin

Better tell a better friend

This is the last time it has ever been

If you don't understand, you're a never-been

Ow... a remember-when

[Outro: Aceyalone]

Thank you! Thank you!

Now that's how you really the party

Yeah – curb servin' .com

Project Blowed – that's what I'm talkin' about

Who you gonna call? Yeah!

Yeah, baby, and we love you, too

Say what, brothers?

How can you be a Good Brother? Put in an application

Go on home, tear it up... peace