Yeah, yeah,

9, 10, 11, 12,

Yo, usually,

We do it like this,

The Suspects

Scapegoat Wax

Uh, coming through like a T-Rex,

Check, check,

Yo yo



MCs smack their heads on brick

And publicly pelt themselves with rocks

And put their feet on dry ice blocks

This one's the knock, knock knocking

On your nose bridge

Poking at your eyelids

With the soul kids from where I live

Everybody's smiling big as Regis

And time froze like fetus

A guitarist took a time machine and cloned baby Jesus

And made an MC like me (what, what?)

Who came to conquer everything

Within the breeze, man, woman, disease - please,

You looking at me in a dumb and funny way

But come to find out your crew

Was some 12-year-old runaways

Mentally I am of the 23rd Century

Technically microphones and drums are my specialty

Cloud 9 to catch the scent of my rhymes

I'm stomping through the streets rapping (Ooh, ah, ooh, ah)

While you're marching for dimes

It's like a lemon to a lime, a lime to a lemon

Sports trivia: Who's head coach is Bobby Cremins?

Georgia Tech Yellowjackets

Iller by the millisecond

I be kicking like Tekken

Check out my record collection

It's kind of fat

This is why I rap like that

I be oozing out the funk

Like a case of the clap



CHORUS:

{Here is something you can't run from

So stop look and listen

You take your position

We do it like this son

The illest prescription

A lyric incision

Into you eardrum} -- X2



THE SUSPECTS:

Natural mystic blowing through the air

Hey is you smoking something there?

Contraire, mon frere

Cause in my verbal contract to give niggas instant convulsions

Experience eternal s