Guru]

That makes me know that we we we we're doin

We had the right idea in the beginning

And and we just need to maintain our focus and elevate

We what we do we update our formulas

We have certain formulas but we update em (oh right)

with the times and everything y'know

So y'know the rhyme style is elevated

The style of beats is elevated but it's still Guru and Premier

And it's always a message involved

"The real... hip-hop"

"MCing, and DJing.. from your own mind, ya know?"

"I, I guess right now we should start the show"

[Guru]

Who's the suspicious character strapped with the sounds profound

Similar to rounds spit by Derringers

You're in the Terrordome like my man Chuck D said

It's time to dethrone you clones, and all you knuckleheads

Cause MC's have used up extended warranties

While real MC's and DJ's are a minority

But right about now, I use my authority

Cause I'm like the Wizard and you look lost like Dorothy

The horror be when I return for my real people

Words that split wigs hittin like some double Desert Eagles

Sportin caps pulled low, and baggy slacks

Subtractin all the rappers who lack, over Premier's tracks

Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse

So as I have in the past, I will bash

Droppin lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax

And one-dimensional MC's can't handle that

While the world's revolvin, on it's axis

I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics

The wilderness is filled with this; so many people

searching for false lift, I'm here with the skills you've missed

The rejected stone is now the cornerstone

Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home

You know my steez...

"You know my steez" --> Method Man

"Let em know, do your thing God" "Keep it live"

"To the beat y'all" --> Flavor Flav

The beat is sinister, Primo makes you relax

I'm like the minister, when I be lacin the wax

I be bringin salvation through the way that I rap

And you know, and I know, I'm nice like that

Work through worldly problems, I got the healing power

When the mic's within my reach, I'm feelin more power

Stealing at least three minutes of every rap radio hour

It's often easier for one, to give advice

Than it is for a person to run one's own life

That's why I can't be caught up in all the hype

I keep my soul tight and let these lines takes flight

The apparatus gets blessed, and suckers get put to rest

No more of the unpure I got the cure for this mess

The wackness is spreadin like the plague

MC's lucked up and got paid but still can't make the fuckin grade

How many times are wannabe's gonna lie?

Yo they must wanna fry, they can't touch the knowledge I personify

I travel through the darkness carrying my torch

The illest soldier, when I'm holding down the fort

("You know my steez" --> Method Man)

You know my steez...

"Let em know, do your thing God" "Keep it live"

"You know my steez" --> Method Man

*repeat 4X with very last line modified as follows*

"The mic..."

On the microphone you know that I'm one of the best yet

Some punks, ain't paid all of their debts yet

Tryin to be fly, ridin high on the jet-set

With juvenile rhymes makin fake-ass death threats

Big deal, like En Vogue, here's something you can feel

Styles more tangible, and image more real

For some time now, I've held the scrolls and manuscripts

When it's time to go all out you be like, "Damn he flipped"

Now I'm sick, fed up with the bullshit

Got the lyrical full clip, giving you a verbal asswhip

Don't trip it's the gifted prolific one

Known as Bald Head Slick -- why is the press all on my di-dick?

My style be wilder, than a kamikaze pilot

Don't try it, I'm about to start more than a friggin riot

Styles unsurpassable, and nuccas that's suckas, yo

Them motherfuckers are harrassable

For I be speaking from my parables and carry you beyond

The mic's either a magic wand

Or it gets tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb

Then I grab your palm, no pulse you're gone

And if you thought we'd lose our niche in this rap shit you way wrong

I stay up, I stay on, shine bright, like neon

Your song's, pathetic, synthetic, like Rayon

Fat beats, they play on, want dope rhymes, put me on

Word is bond... you know my steez