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You puny protozoa, you're so minute you didn't know the |
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Gang has been watchin but instead of just squashin you |
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I'm scoopin you up out of the muck you wallow in |
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like a cheif chemist, other scientists are followin |
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Plannin to examine you, on a petrie dish |
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Sticking you and frickin you, just a teenie bit |
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I'm clever, with science, but never relyin |
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on false words from cowards who forever be tryin |
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Insistin they come off, I let 'em get some off |
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Then come back wit drum tracks, their ears could get numb off |
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Blockbustin, like makin love, I'll never stop thrustin |
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into your system, so just listen |
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I'm like a neurosurgeon, operatin wit a purer version |
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I write prescriptions, of words that fit in |
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The thought gets prescribed, as I kick it live |
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Cause it's more that a style, it's conceptual genius |
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My effect on the scene is, to project that I mean this |
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You deadbeat, wait until you see my next feat |
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I get respect for the rep when I speak |
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Check the technique |
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[DJ Premier cuts] |
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"Check the technique." (3X) |
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"Check the technique and see if you can follow it" |
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[Guru] |
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I'm rushin you like a defensive end as I recommend |
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that you comprehend, I could stomp you in |
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a battle, contest, or war, what will occur |
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will be the forfeiture, of your immature |
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insecure for sure, meek, weak visions of grandeur |
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To rudely awaken you, and then'll be breakin you |
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Taxin without askin and trackin and snakin you |
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Makin you succumb to the drums of GangStarr |
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By far we are, truly gifted ones son |
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But if you were to speculate or estimate us losin |
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you'll be dyin, tryin to face the fate of your delusions |
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Cause miscalculation, is all you're statin |
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So I'm chumpin, puntin punks just like footballs |
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Cause I wanna put y'all, back in the messhall |
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to clean up the slop, and stop all the bullcrap |
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Your rap's crazy wack, so don't try to pull that |
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You're lackin the vernacular, I'm slappin ya and cappin ya |
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and closin your jaw, cause you can't mess with GangStarr |
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The Guru and Premier always dope with the blessed beats |
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Dance your ass off Hobbes, check the technique |
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[DJ Premier cuts] |
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"Check the technique." (4X) |
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[Guru] |
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"Bon voyage", "Sayanora", "Arriva derci" |
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Your ass gets busted doodoo mustard, you tried to work me |
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You irked me - because you copy and falsify |
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And I don't care how many step up, cause you all can try |
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to wish and fish for a style, here's a fishin rod |
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These rhymes are hittin hard, constantly I'm gettin large |
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Inevitably, I readily kick a slew |
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of lyrics so deep, so don't sleep, but just peep me |
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Puttin methods on records and spinning for each millisecond |
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33 RPM's displays the art of men |
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And as my rhymin builds you see my time it's chill |
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.and then I look upon weak ones |
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I'm teachin each one so they become redone |
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Essays are relayed to twist you up like French braids |
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or tied up like corn braids, cause I got a strong way |
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Force like police raids to never be delayed |
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I once was the least paid but I made the grade |
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Cause this ain't a slave sale and I ain't the same stale |
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rapper, no, I'm not a phony microphonist wit no blaster |
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No type of real appeal or real - talent |
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And it makes me violent man |
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To see all of these peewee bee MC wannabees |
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makin G's for some dumb companies |
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and lots of money but no idea what is rap and what is dope |
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So check out what the Guru wrote |
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Cause I will prevail, give you tales as I unveil |
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Have enough braincells so I can stay paid well |
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Now I'm in the driver's seat, and rockin the liver beats |
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Bouncin and boomin and blastin you to the next seat |
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Shiek and unique with lots of kick like a cleat |
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Check the technique |
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(. chief unique technique.) |
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(. chief unique technique.) |
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[DJ Premier cuts] |
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"Check the technique." (3X) |
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"Check the technique and see if you can follow it" |
