We go wow, ba-da-da-dow-da-dah-ow
Either stand tall, or just sit the fuck down
All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown
Brace yourself, it’s about to go down
Runnin one on one and only hip-hop band
Yo Tariq (whassup) how your microphone sound
(It sound tight) well aight, show em what it’s about
We got to blow up the spot, because they must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin hot)
Well it’s like smack the track up and leave dents in it
The vocalist, busting this blunt instrument spit
The magnificent, rappers run from it
All fly girls' nipples and toes numb from it
MC’s in my circumference, is confronted son
Get your growth stunted from this, you don’t want it
(What nigga?) The Black Thought and M-O-S Def done it
Who the ultimate? Yo my man speak upon it
Ayo I stop fools and drop jewels but never run it
Rock mics so nice I make you stock price plummet
All you high noon riders better rally at the summit
It’s me and Tariq and your fleet outnumbered
Cross the membrane, barking big game and get hunted
Eyewitness account, say it happened so sudden
Just slid off to the side, didn’t really say nuttin
Then BLAOW, blew away the 1900th
You better get your rest cause the next day comin
Oh yes, and MC’s they scared to say sum’tin
Stop frontin, I’m in the cut just onlookin
Your get your kings, your rooks, rings and pawns tooken
Ayo, keep your tape rolling so you catch every bar
Of the Black Thought and the black man from Black Star
Illadelph and Vietnam we conference, accomplish
Even with stakes inclined, I get mine, regardless
Yo, a lot of Smurfette MC’s carry purses
And rock uniforms that’s made for nurses
I burst your verses, your words is worthless
Only touching surface, the FUCK’s the purpose?
I shot the sherriff, the deputy, and head of bank treasury
So mounties in the county got a BIG bounty stressin me
But tell 'em to hold off, they too short to measure me
Mos and Black Thought blast forth with the weaponry
Like blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-ow
Either stand tall or sit the fuck down
All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown
Brace yourself, it’s about to go down
Yo Tariq (whassup) how your microphone sound?
(It sound tight) well aight, show em what it’s about
We got to blow up the spot, because they must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin hot)
Yeah, now check your stove top before you take a listen
And make sure beans don’t burn in the kitchen
These gassed-up niggas just ain’t fuel efficient
I play the winter breeze to choke hold your piston
(eh-eh-eh-eh) Now you niggas can’t make pole position
Class E chassis can’t hold the transmission
Crew pit useless, they got they tools missing
Watch me, Grand Prix, champy for wealth driven
Yo, you go one for my hustle (hustle)
Two to rock rhyme (two to rock rhyme)
From the muscle kid I’m one of the illest of all time
I swing from chandeliers and wall climb
And specialize in warfares of all kind
A lot of MC’s said I’m a run it down rhyme
But half the time, they running down one of mine
Thought suffocating em with yet another stunning line
You dumb and blind kid, it’s enlarged and underlined
What I memorized leave your whole staff pressurized
Melt down all of your artificial lies
Y’all niggas is faker than Yellow No. 5
Swine like mono and diglyceride
My vocals got texture, you just texturized
I’m nicer than your writtens even when I’m improvised
Step into my zone get flown like fly
By the b-boy Lazarus who just won’t die
Yo, me and Kamal and Leonard Hubbard, Questlove and Malik
We go back to dollar hoagies and Tahitian Treat
Or like toast in the oven with government cheese bubbling
Me and Dante like Marvin, The Troublemen travelling
Give me the mic, we on that again
B-boy business, off the top acting and battling
Serving them cats that forgot
But don’t get too close, because you might get shot
Like blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-ow
Either stand tall or sit the fuck down
All the way from 2−1-5th to Bucktown
Brace yourself, it’s about to go down
Yo Tariq (whassup) how your microphone sound
(It sound tight) well aight, show em what it’s about
We bout to blow up the spot, because y’all must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin hot)
We go blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-ow
Either stand tall or sit the fuck down
All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown
Went from Do You Want More!!! to what you want now?
Yo Tariq (whassup) how your microphone sound
(It sound tight) well aight, show em what it’s about
We bout to blow up the spot, because y’all must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin hot)
Say here’s a little story that must be told
About two young brothers who got so much soul
They taking total control of the body and brain
Flying high in the sky, on a lyrical plane
It’s just two bad brothers who will never quit
Mos Def and Tariq from the 2−1-5th
They rock beginning to end, on a spiritual blend
And everybody who forgot then baby tell em again
It’s just me and Tariq, with Ahmir on the beat
The Roots crew baby yo we got to make it unique
We got the soul-shockinest, body-rockinest
Non-stoppinest, Fortified Live survive the apocalypse
Rhymes we say, the perfect blend
Because we know how to rock when the beat come in
Like zen-zen-zen-zen-zen
Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen
Zen zen-zen, ZEN zen zen ZEN zen zen
Zen zen, ZEN zen zen-zen
Zen-zen-zen, ZEN zen ZEN zen
Here we go, here we here we here we go
Zen zen-zen, ZEN zen zen ZEN zen zen
Zen zen, ZEN zen zen-zen
Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen
Let the poppers pop, and the breakers break
Then zen-zen-zen-zen-zen
Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen
Two years ago, a friend of mine
Zen zen, ZEN zen, zen-zen zen-zen… *fades*