Tekster: Tonedeff. Underscore. Bring It.

[Chorus]
If you really want it...I can bring it to ya
If you really want it...I can bring it to ya
If you really want it...I can bring it to ya
So, make up your mind, cause I'm itching to move through ya

[Tonedeff]
You have never heard this flow before
Hold your soul in and then close the door
Shut it tight, 'cause I bring that raw hardcore
Dirty flow to pump and leave your heart sore
I'm sure the rhythms and the rhymes are pure
The lyrical auteur to pitiful sophomores
Emcee wannabes that all got tours
Prepare to surrender your shit and fall to all fours
This is yet another redefinition of the emcee
With a view to a kill no matter what the lens see
I focus on flawed imaginations that's empty
And devoid of funk, pre-eminently
I've bent the original rules of rhyming so that nothing prevents me
Cause the drum & the bass tempt me
I've sent these words in verse, so, evidently you're done
Cause I refuse to bring it to you gently

[Chorus]

[Tonedeff]
You can call me the freeze-frame shutterbug
Cause I'll stop you dead in your tracks
and snap your picture while I'm at it
I've had it up to here with the static and the jeers
Response from my peers is automatic wreaking havoc on your ears
Been rapping for years, mastered every aspect
Of this craft, that I'm saddened to say is stagnant
I be laughing at half-wits, just coming to grasp with
Vocabulary patterns that's average, as I play with Symantecs
Famous for tactics, Lines that I - say with a passion age into classics
All while entertaining the masses
Drastic measures are implemented all in your head
The sandman to put 'em to sleep and then swallow the bed
I never, follow the trends, I'll bend whatever you set
I'll embody your style, and dismember your rep
Inventive and set on revising, revolutionizing the gears in this mega-machine
The appointed head of the team
Set on defeating the feeble, Completion is the true test
T-o-n-e-d-e-double-the-F, who's next?

[Chorus]

[Tonedeff]
Push forth, That's what this Jux' for
Never fall for these crooks with more titles bookstores
Always scheming on good scores, creaking on wood floors
But peep 'em and their hook's horse-shit, and their look's poor
Bordering on absurdity, Served the underground for an eternity
Yet, certainly most radio stations ain't never heard of me
Thirty-percent of these niggaz is flossing
The other seventy's thugging, emulating whatever they're watching
Caution, lost one, ain't you see the sign? Music's redefined
Just read between the lines
I'm bringing my expertise of extra heat
To melt this ice age at the hundred and 10th degree
Preventing me from accomplishing this is inexplicably devious thinking
Like shooting holes in a boat as you're sinking
Odds of survival, reduced to those of finding decent delinquents
If you stand in the way of progression, I'm pleased to bring it