[Verse 1: Pat Juba]

Another mission, U.V.S stress competition

To communicate, spill 7th degree burn victim

No air conditioning, humidity heat section

A coalition, cold-blooded starving vocalism

Three room prison, the fourth invisible

Got you locked on principles

Lacking courage inside your mental, nourish

The illest thoughts on world politics

Relax, inhale, meditate on this, religious indigenous

I crucify the world during eclipse

Radio wave captivate slave breaking this

Inhabitants of past tense, untouchable nonsense

Of Hip-hop culture wise, blindfold your eyes

I represent it as your professing disc jock

Synthetic terrorism, assassinate your wisdom

Vision is twisted like hallucinogenic sinning Christians

Alter the mission, 12 monkey angle listen

Constantly dissing, diligent schism

My realism is ill, I build pyramids, an illest prison

I meditate to elevate, the world around is opposite

I concentrate, constantly rocking shit

[Chorus: Vocal sample - ] x4

You don't need to be gangsta to be street, man

It's music that's made for your mind

[Verse 2: Sep Sev Sev Two]

Hahaha

Yo, a comedian of your caliber should have an agent

Here's my card, that's my number, give me a call, I get you paid kid

I gave it all I had, it wanted more

Blew up the monitor before somebody had the nuts to feed the carnivore

They acting startled when the shit began to fray to the edges

They hit the resin and chased it with Benson & Hedges

But fuck a contract

Cause what you need is a contact buzz

To free the clutch and compress the TV's fuzz

Let me outta the agreement

Put me in treatment

Cause the picture's uneven

I got a fistful of grievance

Fuck the etcetera, the bullshit rhetoric, whatever, the vendettas

The false endeavors and heed the fucking weather

When I'm simple and plain I cripple the lame

When I adjust the thrust up a notch, I cast a layer of frost

Across your glossy eyed outlook

Never been out shook

By the flossy lies

Metamorphosize by your forceful pride

Greed is dead

Some need to bleed to get that through they head, true

Seeks bread, won't read unless they read to

And everything you do has meaning

So add some feeling

When the break hits, let's all flip and grab the ceiling

[Chorus: Vocal sample - ] x4

You don't need to be gangsta to be street, man

It's music that's made for your mind

[Verse 3: General Woundwart]

I got a hunch I can crunch MC's within the flash of an eyelid

Snap your lumbar and then supply this

Injurious hand hold, trying to defend against this is useless

Blow the candle on your last birthday, my words break

So chill with the backtalk, if you slack you get caught

You oughta think about the thought

Of fist-to-jaw clashing

In the midst I saw niggas rappin'

So I snuck up and hit the duck up

You need to brush up, touch-touch the renegader

Many feel the laser once Ant drops the fader

Communicator, I got an Uzi made of paper

Trying to do me is major, lose me in Fanastasia

You're artificially, taking part in the art

Trying to get with me, throwing sparks from out your limousine

Continuing, to bring the hype, ever sleazier

I knock the teeth in ya, then you go back and tell the media

Through the Yamaha monitor, we got it at Defcon 4

I fly alone like a commodore, we on a tour so prepare for war

Cause you's about to feel the wrath of the Gen. Woundwart