(I'm glad you all made it to my show
Hope you enjoy it
By the way: Ill mind music is in the house
Keep it up)
It's lord quas droppin' shit like some horses
Imitatin' your mindstate have you split like divorces of courses
The new breed fuckin' up the mainstream
Plus we gon' gain cream
Keep doin' the same thing
Elevatin' styles beyond explication
Turned up the notch increase the amplification
Madlib got ya bumpin' in your upper story
While I drop the microphone mathematics
Simple tactics
So I can bag chips
Make you backflips
Like when I used to smack chicks
Now I just bag dips
It's like some people ain't got no mental sight
You try keepin' it real
(Yet you should try keepin' it right it's understandin' microphone mathematics) x4
Quas, drop that number thing
I was born in 1973
I got five brothers we lived up on 9th street
On the 22nd of december
My pops shot 6 cops, I remember
Never got caught
10 Stitches
Got burnt by 7
In the 12th grade thinkin' about million dollar riches
On the 3-4, I broke about a dozen mics
On the 1, 2s, I took out a hundred crews
365 Days to a year, subtract it off your life
In 2000, that's the end of strife
It's like some people ain't got no mental sight
You try keepin' it real (yet you should try keepin' it right)
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