Tekster: De La Soul. Rock Co. Cane Flow.

Up in them five star tellies and two mic rhymes
Be them average MC's of the times
Unlike them, we craft gems
So systematically inclined to pen lines
Without sayin' a producer's name all over the track

Yeah, I said it, what you need to do is get back
To reading credits, we them medics
Alphabetically stuck on that English shit
Knock it, knock it before we pour that
Sure shot more Rock Co. Kane flow

From the top of the key, the 3 Villain
Been on in the game as long as you can wheelie Schwinn
Turn the corner spinnin', bust that ass and get up
Dust off the mask, whoever laugh give him a head up

He got jumped, it pumped his adrenaline
He said it made him tougher than a bump of raw medicine
To write all night long, the hourglass is still slow
Flow from Hellborn to Free Power like Wilco

And still owe the bills, pay dues forever
Slay huge when it comes to who's more cleverer
Use to wore a leather goose ski with a fur collar
Hand charged a fee for loose leaf words for dollar, ya heard? Holla

Broad or dude, we need food
Eat your teams for sure, the streets sure seem rude
For fam like the partridges, pardon him for the mix-up
Battle for your Atari cartridges or put your kicks up, it's a stick up

Now put your blix up
These Riddick Bowe cuts, is swoll like penile flicks, give 'em 20
The danger in his eyes'll let you know he's a brawler
Bring your tallest champs like that much taller

Ten pounds heavier, one step ahead of it
Vocab, stamina, style's all irrelevant
Camps and cliques, units, squad crews and clans
Even your tongues'll fuck around and leave your mouth

Doom brung that bum, there goes that news van again
Act like you knew like, Toucan Sam an' 'em
He eat rappers like part of a complete breakfast
Your rhymes ain't worth the weight of they cheap necklace

String 'em up, bring 'em up under whack junk snack
And get that out your hand, punk, jump and get your dunk smacked
Foul, we all know the rules, bro
You slow, you blow the soup on your fools, his Impulse like Yugo

You go lights, camera, action with no makeup
We, De La to the death, or at least until we break up
Here's a couple of nice guys who finished first
So nice try, but the prize is ours dispersed

They say the good die young, so I added some
Bad ass to my flavor to prolong my life over the drum
Everyone cools off from bein' hot
It's about if you can handle bein' cold or not

And we was told to hop on no one's dick by Prince Paul
We stayed original ever since y'all
First to do a lot of things in the game, but the last to say it
No need to place it on a scale to weigh it

And don't do it for the plays or to raise the bar
Yet it's raised anyway, so amazin' are
The three L.I. brothers from a other way of thinkin'
Hey, your lady's winkin', I think you need to control that
Or I have to hold that

The elements are airborne, I smell the success
Yo, let's cookie cut the shit and get the gingerbread man
Sacrifice mics and push drugs to these rappers
Puff ponies 'til I turn blue in the lips

Sippin' broads like 7 Up, so refreshing
I think I'll pop these verses like first dates to birthdates
September 2 1, 1 9, 6 8
Too old to rhyme, too bad, too late