I see everybody rockin' the same old style

And everyone's sportin' the same profile

And all of y'all wearin' the same name brands

I hear everybody jackin' these played out jams

I won't reach for no gun punk I use my hands

I rock mikes and roll bikes I cross foriegn lands

I made my bones out in zones where twilight be

And every time I touch the mike it's Fright Night Part Three

For every emcee that wannaa test and try

In your custom made wears thinkin' you too fly

Make it up in gold chains what you're lackin' for brains

Its time to pull your mind through, scoop up your remains

And finally lay to rest all the shit you stressed

Of boastin' and braggin' about the toes you taggin'

I'm knock, knock, knockin' on heavens door

While every rapper that's simmed is pimped like a whore

You see the talk is eighteen, three quarters past four

When your doctor slaps my ass, hear the lion roar

The record sales soared and the world got toured

You say what happened to my band, I say I just got bored

Now they call me Whitey Ford, and I praise the Lord

Find me breakin' up your crews, catch me singin' the blues

Strummin' and pickin' like I'm BB King

It's Abdul Rakim, now watch me do my thing

CHORUS

Down, down, you go

Down, down, so low

Down, down, till you hit the floor

Keep fallin' down, till you can't get down no more

You go point blank range with the scope he's knockin'

The Psycho might change but there ain't no stoppin'

The mmon's on the rise when the sun start droppin'

And y'all need to quit the bullshit that you be poppin'

'Cause I've been hip hoppin' since BDP

(???), it's Abdul Rakim

And when referring to me you must respect the name

Make a quick double take and double check your game

'Cause you about to get dissed, I'm checkin' my list

When I check it over twice it's like rollin' dice

I hit four, five, six, I'm all up in your mix

I rock good from Hollywood to the city of bricks

And all these fake cats scream they're keepin' it real

While you're makin' your deal we'll be breakin' the seal

You be breakin' your vows like people worshippin' cows

And then I hit ya with the who's, what's, where's and how's

Like Vinny Barbarino, Matt Pachino

I'm with my man Rino with the Brooklyn Lordz

Crashin' the boards with my soul in a hole

I take it back to the future from the days of old

I'm too cold to hold, too hot not to burn ya

Don't stick your nose in businessthat don't concern ya

Might have to trip and flip like Ive Turner

You too old for schoolin', boy, when I'm gonna learn ya

CHORUS