[Verse 1]

The color-blind application for hiphop admission

Is as naive and problematic as affirmative action

So come as you are to shed to skin to shed light

To the four corners of the world so the story can be told

Sold! To the highest bidder of your own soul

Hold! The wine is bitter if you ain't at your goal

So, is the epidermis the permit to perform

Or does a hermit have a chance to earn it?

At minimum wage turning into maximum rage

The artists better pave the ways 'cause nowadays

Playboy Hustlers living in a Penthouse High Society fantasy

Don't you realize that it's so painful for a hip-hop fan to see

Their favorite MC stoop down to the level of

"These are few of my favorite things"

(Material things only come from your dreams!)

So now how come we don't like the music that we select?

How come we don't like the Presidents we elect?

Mentally sick figures talking about six figures

With no artistic skill like stick figures?

Superstitious blind artists better take the "T" out

Now you've got Seven Wonders to solve before you plunder

Never underestimate the price of unseen underground

Real estate intellectual property

When a metamorph metaphor kicked properly

A sharp pen is mightier than guns

Mags radio and video collective mediocre media

By a standard deviation from the average lyrical leverage

Sound found in the spectrum

Respect from the kids is all want as a rapport

So Fuck a deadbeat MC with no juvenile support!

[Chorus]

It's the pure lyricist, what is this?

An Ecdysis, ghost writer exorcist

Pure lyricist, the Ecdysis

(I'm already on fire but I wanna explode!)

It's the true lyricist, what is this?

An Ecdysis, ghost writer exorcist

True lyricist, the Ecdysis

(I'm already on fire but I wanna explode!)

[Verse 2]

And still, my chances of making it

Is like stepping into a room with a 10:1 guy to girl ratio

And getting a felatio

Live oral exercise is what I give back, 'cause I will rock the mic

As long as there's a last man standing ovation, that's me

Pure lyrical innovation, pass me the clutchie

With the game clock ticking

'cause I'll be sure to sink the dish and leave MCs chopsticking

At a clean plate, clean slate state of mind

Definitions refined and redefined over times

By the stroke of a genius, like Michaelangelo

The mic will challenge those simplistic self-portraits

You know there's nothing sacred about the loop de jour

'Cause your skills cannot serve justice to illustrate just this

Not everybody has to be in between Gospel and Marilyn Manson so what the Hell are you sayin'?

Heavy metallic tape content strictly high bias

So God, buy us some time in this Age where false prophets

Preach reality like bestiality of cloned sheep, copying the fake fur

Subject matter: idle chatter

So whenever did you switch from T&A to DNA?

Under the melanin, pigment of my skin, segment sample

The color of blood is all the same crimson, ask Mr. Simpson

I'm a hemoglobe trotter

Carrying fresh oxygen supply through offensive lines to apply

Word of mouth to mouth resuscitation of this art of MC

Esher, performing under pressure

Lesser MCs can test who's really fresher blind-folded

('Cause there's too many hiphop viewers and not enough listeners)

What you now hear is what you most fear

The penetration of your atmosphere

By invisible bombarding harmful particles

Lombarding twisted path MCs

All fall down hill like an Olympic tumble

And the Five Rings on you fingers are not gonna save you

But my natural skin offers perfect protection

From ultra-violet rays and ultra-violent days

So if you ever think you can find a chink in my armor

You can hate me from your guts like Japs at Pearl Harbor

[Chorus]

From a caterpillar, to a chrysalis

To a butterfly in the stomach of the beast

I drink insecticide to wreck the west side

I come from the far east