You puny protozoa you're so minute you didn't know the

Gang has been watching but instead of just squashing you

I'm scooping you up out of the muck you wallow in

Like a cheif chemist all the sciences are following

Planned it to examine you on a petrie dish

Sticking you and fricking you just a tiny bit

I'm clever wit science but never reliant

Unfalse words from cowards who forever be trying

Insisting they come off, I let them get some off

They come back wit drum tracks, their ears could get number

Blockbusting, like making love, I never stop thrusting

Into your system so just listen

I'm like a neurosurgeon operating wit ?(a fear of version)?

I write perscriptions of words that fit in

Then go catch my stride as I kick it live

'Cause it's more that a style, it's conceptual genius

My effect on the scene is to project that I mean this

You deadbeat, wait until you see my next feat

I get respect for the rep when I speak

Check the technique

Check the technique...see if you can follow it

I'm rushing you like a defensive end as I recommend

That you comprehend, I could stomp you in

A battle, contest, or war, what will it throw

It'll be ?(the poor picture)? of you're immature

Insecure for sure, meek, weak visions of grandeur

To rudely awaken you, I then'll be breaking you

Taxing without asking and tracking and snaking you

Making you sucumb to the drums of Gangstarr

By far we are truely gifted ones, son

But if you were to speculate or estimate us losing

You be dying, trying to face the fate of your delusions

'Cause miscalculation is all you're stating

So I'm chumping, punting punks just like footballs

'Cause I wanna put you all back in the messhall

To clean up the slop and stop all the bullcrap

Your rap's crazy wack so don't try to pull that

you're lacking the vernacular, I'm slapping ya and capping ya

And closing your jaws 'cause you can't mess wit Gangstarr

The Guru and Premier always dope wit the blessed beats

Dance your ass off pops check the technique

Check the technique...

Bon voyage, Sinare, averduchi

Your ass gets busted due to mustard, you tried to work me

You irked me 'cause you copy and falsified

And I don't care how many step up 'cause you all can try

And wish and fish for a style, here's a fishing rod

These rhymes are hitting hard, constantly I'm getting large

Inediblely, I readily kick a sprew

Of lyrics so deep, so don't sleep, but just peep me

Putting methods on records and spin it for each millisecond

33 RPM's displays the odd of men

And as my rhyming builds you see my time is chill

And then I look upon weak ones

I'm teaching each one so they become redone

And ?(says)? are relayed to twist you up like frenchbraids

Or tied up like corn braids 'cause i got a strong way

Force like police raids to never be delayed

I once was the least paid but I made the grade

'Cause this ain't a slave sale and I ain't the same stale

Rapper, no, I'm not a phony microphonist wit no blaster

No type of real appeal or real talent

And it makes me violent man

To see all of these pee wee's be Mc's wannabees

Making g's for some dumb companies

And lots of money but no idea what is rap and what is dope

But check out what the Guru wrote

'Cause I will prevail, give you tales as I unvail

Have enuff braincells so I can stay paid well

Now I'm in the driver seat and rocking the louder beats

Bouncing and booming and blasting you to the next seat

Sheik and unique wit lots of tics like a leach

Check the technique

Check the technique...see if you can follow it