| Song | Doors |
| Artist | Common Market |
| Album | Common Market |
| Make ‘em clap to this | |
| Attempt to motivate the activists | |
| The buzz about town (will) produce volts to power your amp | |
| Reign it in – damp roots will blossom | |
| A few were talkin' ‘bout the sprout when the Two were still Awesome | |
| Sun lit the sky and identified the Scion | |
| '95 burns hot in the hearts of rap purists | |
| “Put in on,” big brother, transform | |
| My generation of b-b-bubblers has gone flat over time | |
| Daily distractions of the 8-track mind | |
| If I stray, punch me out, for real – be on the button | |
| But word to La Rock, swear you aint gon' stop for nothin' | |
| Mecca bound with the 4-pound – promisin' yall the payoff | |
| The black steel rocker throughout the age of chaos | |
| And brothers on my jock for the way I hold it | |
| Take it in, cousin – this right here's the moment | |
| Still “steppin' to the a.m.” | |
| A half pace short of dawn-break – you take trade in's? | |
| Stakes is high – my mistakes ante up with the best | |
| “Stay alive, all thing's will change around” – ahh yeah | |
| You're test of faith will make mountains outta rock piles | |
| The ‘voodoo child' will chop it | |
| Jimi's diggin' cats – Mr. Hancock. ‘Rock It,' | |
| And affluence influenced the hustle, I can't knock it | |
| Believe me if you wanna, but I'll tell you this much | |
| I bet you all your dough they live longer than us, because | |
| Only the good die at age 29 | |
| ‘My Philosophy' was born in a ‘New York State of Mind' | |
| Confined on the island with no moral support | |
| To make a long story short – it's 8 million others in the city | |
| And you prolly aint got time for this one | |
| You keep checkin' the shine on your wrist, son… | |
| Chorus: | |
| Bum rush the platform, son – doors are closin' | |
| When time's frozen, you don't wanna be late | |
| Departin' sharp for one last run to get you open | |
| I'll forever hold my token, stand post by the gate (X2) | |
| They said ‘never no more,' | |
| But it seems the suckas teamed up to hold court | |
| The 6-man providin' relief for any starter | |
| Count stats by the quarter – we're takin' back the order | |
| I swear upon the text of the revelation of Kings | |
| From Hollis, Queens – learned to walk without strings | |
| Easy on the cut – no mistakes allowed | |
| Cause to me, “MC” means “mentor the child” | |
| Step into the realm and you're bound to get taught | |
| Tell me Grand Verbalizer; what time the lesson start? | |
| Sharpenin' my tip so my mark's made heavy and dark | |
| Indelible upon your skeletal parts | |
| The apprentice to the mad scientist up in the lab | |
| It's the art form – these scars were born under scabs | |
| The body returns to dust; the soul to the South Bronx… | |
| Chorus |
| Make ' em clap to this | |
| Attempt to motivate the activists | |
| The buzz about town will produce volts to power your amp | |
| Reign it in damp roots will blossom | |
| A few were talkin' ' bout the sprout when the Two were still Awesome | |
| Sun lit the sky and identified the Scion | |
| ' 95 burns hot in the hearts of rap purists | |
| " Put in on," big brother, transform | |
| My generation of bbbubblers has gone flat over time | |
| Daily distractions of the 8track mind | |
| If I stray, punch me out, for real be on the button | |
| But word to La Rock, swear you aint gon' stop for nothin' | |
| Mecca bound with the 4pound promisin' yall the payoff | |
| The black steel rocker throughout the age of chaos | |
| And brothers on my jock for the way I hold it | |
| Take it in, cousin this right here' s the moment | |
| Still " steppin' to the a. m." | |
| A half pace short of dawnbreak you take trade in' s? | |
| Stakes is high my mistakes ante up with the best | |
| " Stay alive, all thing' s will change around" ahh yeah | |
| You' re test of faith will make mountains outta rock piles | |
| The ' voodoo child' will chop it | |
| Jimi' s diggin' cats Mr. Hancock. ' Rock It,' | |
| And affluence influenced the hustle, I can' t knock it | |
| Believe me if you wanna, but I' ll tell you this much | |
| I bet you all your dough they live longer than us, because | |
| Only the good die at age 29 | |
| ' My Philosophy' was born in a ' New York State of Mind' | |
| Confined on the island with no moral support | |
| To make a long story short it' s 8 million others in the city | |
| And you prolly aint got time for this one | |
| You keep checkin' the shine on your wrist, son | |
| Chorus: | |
| Bum rush the platform, son doors are closin' | |
| When time' s frozen, you don' t wanna be late | |
| Departin' sharp for one last run to get you open | |
| I' ll forever hold my token, stand post by the gate X2 | |
| They said ' never no more,' | |
| But it seems the suckas teamed up to hold court | |
| The 6man providin' relief for any starter | |
| Count stats by the quarter we' re takin' back the order | |
| I swear upon the text of the revelation of Kings | |
| From Hollis, Queens learned to walk without strings | |
| Easy on the cut no mistakes allowed | |
| Cause to me, " MC" means " mentor the child" | |
| Step into the realm and you' re bound to get taught | |
| Tell me Grand Verbalizer what time the lesson start? | |
| Sharpenin' my tip so my mark' s made heavy and dark | |
| Indelible upon your skeletal parts | |
| The apprentice to the mad scientist up in the lab | |
| It' s the art form these scars were born under scabs | |
| The body returns to dust the soul to the South Bronx | |
| Chorus |