[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Let me flaunt the style, I think that the time's near
That we drop Scuds, there won't be no duds here
Rappers play the dumb, kinda on the space tip
But when they hear the jams, they be on the dilsnick
Now I'm not for the rock, I know the territory
Go ahead and try, that's a different story
Similar to Grimm, I could tell a better one
All about a kid, who couldn't rap and didn't run
Stands on the side when the mic is getting dumb
Resorts to bagging Billy, asking could he have some
No, never ever, go back and try again, man
If you come back, I'll be the first to shake your hand
Competition's good, it brings out the vital parts
The Abstract Poetic, majors in recital arts
Do it for the kids, the elders and the rap peers
We know the job is done when we hear a lot of cheers
Gotta feel the vibes, real from my creation
If the hands clap I'm filled with elation
Here I am ghetto, full with a lot of steam
Think I gotta, I think I gotta, I think I gotta scream
'Cause that's how good it feels, child
Let your hair down, so we can get buckwild
Do your ill dance, don't think about the next man
We must have unity and think of the bigger plan
Division, we will fall, we must stick together, see
I'd like to take this time to say what's up to Kool G
The name is Q-Tip, the Midnight Marauder
Giving nuff respects to Afrika Bambaataa
As a man in the world, I must do my job
Take care of Mama Duke, I won't resort to rob
Bob, you'll get your dough, Mase is my witness
Obsessed with the rap, for it's the mental fitness
Like shooting Cee-lo, and always hitting head cracks
The industry is luck, winning with the fake raps
Peace to the crews who pump the real hip hop
Not selling out, from hardrock to disc jock
Let me flaunt the style, I think that the time's near
That we drop Scuds, there won't be no duds here
Rappers play the dumb, kinda on the space tip
But when they hear the jams, they be on the dilsnick
Now I'm not for the rock, I know the territory
Go ahead and try, that's a different story
Similar to Grimm, I could tell a better one
All about a kid, who couldn't rap and didn't run
Stands on the side when the mic is getting dumb
Resorts to bagging Billy, asking could he have some
No, never ever, go back and try again, man
If you come back, I'll be the first to shake your hand
Competition's good, it brings out the vital parts
The Abstract Poetic, majors in recital arts
Do it for the kids, the elders and the rap peers
We know the job is done when we hear a lot of cheers
Gotta feel the vibes, real from my creation
If the hands clap I'm filled with elation
Here I am ghetto, full with a lot of steam
Think I gotta, I think I gotta, I think I gotta scream
'Cause that's how good it feels, child
Let your hair down, so we can get buckwild
Do your ill dance, don't think about the next man
We must have unity and think of the bigger plan
Division, we will fall, we must stick together, see
I'd like to take this time to say what's up to Kool G
The name is Q-Tip, the Midnight Marauder
Giving nuff respects to Afrika Bambaataa
As a man in the world, I must do my job
Take care of Mama Duke, I won't resort to rob
Bob, you'll get your dough, Mase is my witness
Obsessed with the rap, for it's the mental fitness
Like shooting Cee-lo, and always hitting head cracks
The industry is luck, winning with the fake raps
Peace to the crews who pump the real hip hop
Not selling out, from hardrock to disc jock
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