THE WAY IT HAS TO BE

You have no graphs, no concepts, no nothing

But then you criticize the rhymes that I’ll be busting.

And in the process I can see that you ain’t ready yet

Recording demos and thinking that you can make me sweat.

You got no substance to the lyrics that you claim you wrote...

It doesn’t matter how you came ’cause you’d leave broke

One demo tape, one track, your ego boosted!

Who wrote the lyrics? Who put you where you are? Who produced it?

You got no skills, no talent, no individualism.

You got no style, no flow; you’re out of time and rhythm.

I bet you never even held a mic before...

That’s why you’re scared of the stage when it’s time to tour.

You never understood the meaning of concept,

Lyrics are full of depth and ideas connect.

Years of practicing to keep me well ahead of competition.

Sort of an inner vision keeps me focused on my mission,

The matter at hand to stand tall, expand...

Cross the Atlantic and conquer each and every land...

The United States, Japan, Australia,

Africa, Asia, Mars, Arabia.

It took years of heart breaking, brain digging...

Even though times were rough, rhyme bombs were ticking!

Time slipping through your finger tips, gradually

Everything organized, I leave you paralyzed

’Cause.........

Stop! Think about it for a minute

Now that I’m here your over rated time on air waves is finished.

The truth has finally been accepted by the listeners

Your rhymes irrelevant, you got a nerve to be dissing us.

Soon as we’re gone you’re missing us, to be accurate

You killing the scene only for me to resuscitate

It takes time, hell of a mind, hell of a structure,

Hell of a composure even down to the way you touch the

Mic is my only artillery

Lyrics are the ammo and concepts are deadly....

But you don’t understand so you criticize,

Surprised to see me rise, jealousy’s in your eyes

And you’re too busy being disorganized...

Dwelling on a next man’s style to build your enterprise.

You ain’t equipped for this, you need practice

Don’t bother react to this ’cause you don’t have a knack for this.

Sort of a strategy, planning the way it has to be

So the day I die I’ll be the legendary emcee

Till death does part me from the art

Form.... I’ll be the storm!

A life time experience, without a shadow of doubt,

No doubt, this is what Hip Hop is about.

I’m glad you were here for this; God gave you an ear for this

Rhyme exhibitionist, pure unadulterated lyricist.

A paragraph drawn into graph

Transformed into a song so I’ll have the last laugh.

Sheer excellence for tomorrow,

You borrow and imitate but still sound hollow!

Then follow from faze to fashion with passion

City lights are flashing, real rap swallowed up in rations.

You can only dream to write like I write, I might

Ignite, confuse and leave you blinded by the light!

’Cause I been working on graphs, concepts and all of that;

Making it difficult for those who might try to follow that.

Thinking they can handle the pressure, the art combined with heart

Blowing ’em apart..... Ain’t nobody fresher?