[Verse 1]

Ayo, it's time for me to ride my invitation to the room

A product of them baby-boomers, but I never believed in kids blowin' up into celebrities

With no indemnities these cartoon characters makin' tunes

But you can't pay no dues in wombs

But in return, I burn my etching on the moon

I learned my lesson on the loom, in essence, I will truly bloom

I paint with all the colors of the wind like I was Judy Kuhn

I tend to hit that booty soon, type of pum-pum I will consume

When I'm bangin', I'm goin' "Boom-Boom-Boom"

And brothers think I'm out there, rainin' pain in your contained monsoon

I'll play your game like Final Doom

Where there's no end take it to 64 levels of graphic planes

And you can feel the texture mappin' on your brain

What's next to happen doesn't change

I resume, so don't assume I flex to rappin' just for cappin'

I'm laughin' at these wannabe MCs, desolated like dune

My tracks are more anticipated than the month of June in public schoolrooms

I've got that "Boom-Boom-Bap, Original Rap"

I wanna track it back, so fuck the clappin' gats and satin macks

Cause I've got tons of backing that's available to crack a stack of the wackest actors tryin' to rap – they're gettin' flat

Like the bitches I used to peep in 7th grade

It's 7 days till dawn, while RBM we breakin' the norm to keep it on

And even though I'm Monotone at certain points within my diction

My depiction of reality is fixed within your vision

'Cause you're fixed

[Chorus]

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Lyrically overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, lyrically overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Lyrically overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, lyrically overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

[Verse 2]

So, Skiddly-Bebop, yo, We-Rock, Scooby Doo

Guess what, America? "We Love You"

With a Rock and a Roll, and there's so much soul

Yo, we'll be rockin' 'til we're a hundred and one years old

Now, I don't mean to brag and yo, I don't mean to boast

But I'm the host with the most that rocks shows coast to coast

East-West meets best, 305, like, whatever, hops

I format the rhythm to give you the whole big picture like its letterbox

And, yo, it never stops – I'm that bunny energizin'

Purgatori's under the pink, don't play boy scouts when I'm exercisin'

But, I digress

I press the bench for time, your deadlines make me late

Don't stall to sell me a quarter pounder for $6.50, yo, cause that ain't worth the wait

I'm wizzin' on your click, and still you insist I'm on your dick

You're just a sparkle-puss, like David Copperfield's hookers are Magic Tricks

Imagine this: you're smokin' cannabis while I'm becomin' the man at this

Amateur panelist, plan to turn purple like an amethyst

In a world with no Quartz, basketballs, laws, or gems

To which it applies, the moment I visualize the bitter demise of them

I hit 'em when eyes are blind to minimalize their literal lies, and then

I sit and I fiddle with the rhymes they've crafted and they get shafted in the end

Ask the question

Who got the rhythm? I'm comin' off like Janet's panties

Ever since 1814, and gratefully she don't wear Grannies

'Cause that's deader than Jerry Garcia, but via his fans I need a fix

To crack the heads of these self-pipe-tootin', lyrical bitches suckin' dicks

You're fixed

[Chorus]

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Publicly overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, publicly overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Publicly overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, publicly overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

[Instrumental Break]

Tonedeff, ninety-X

[Verse 3]

MCs are fixed but never mended, they get blue in the face

And that be, like, true in the case where there's no space for gravity

"I Breathe Deep", 'cause the malady that salary's the strategy

Of the modern rap academy saddens me

Studied the anatomy of musicality where critics are the analogy observed

Don't give a shit about the Comp-U-Serve

You virtually can't escape the net reality casts

Because my web be worldwide, better believe I got my sign-on your ass

I be that prodigy that raves onlines of text in America

I still refuse to be your fuckin' cartoon character

'Cause, babe, I keep it pure

So, maybe if my death was premature, then I'd be sure to win an award

And you can quote that from the source, I criticize my critics

Shit, it must've broken down some doors, 'cause now we minimize the limits

That's set inside us by the cynics; and those who wanna mimic this with tricks

Get diminished down the River of Styx

'Cause you're fixed

[Chorus]

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Critically overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, critically overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated

Niggas be fixed

Critically overrated

Niggas be fixed

Creatively castrated, critically overrated

And, yo, nothing's innovated, ayy

Niggas be fixed

[Outro]

Yo, check it out now (Check it out now)

And it don't stop, ha (ha)

One-two, this is how we do, RBM crew, non-stop

Ninety-what? Ninety-what? Ninety-[?]

Everybody worldwide (Baby-baby)

Street life poetry (Street life poetry)

Check it out

(Niggas be fixed)

Ha

Check it, ha

Feel it, baby (Feel it, baby)

Check it out, ha

Ah, yeah