[Verse 1: MF DOOM]
You can't join 'em? Beat 'em
Villain teach you where to score some old concrete crumbs
Word is Gold Bond feets powder, corned thumbs
‘specially in the summer bless the drummer, warned ‘em
Tight your cleats, or else its right to the white meat
Some I bite to eat, others write the light bright heat
Despite threat regardless of the aspect, the shack, the burning holes through his black neck, fact check
No flicks, and he scam, thought alot with the quicks
Like the mini camcorder box, it’s a brick lick, classic
As we stalk the great outdoors
Only use the magic nowadays to talk them out they draw to them
Before he go there let me take it where it started from
Smart kid sold some snake spit to a 'tarded bum
Not without carding em’, Mr. Guardin'-em
Find me in the mid-90s Midnight Mauraden-em
Hard, they wanted no part of him
More rhymes and ways to get paid, and there’s a lot of 'em
Great minds see alike take a sneak peek
Peek one foot out and still leave deep
No frontin' if you ain’t go huntin' or southern, you definitely ain’t gon ‘run em
[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]
In the streets is where you witness the worship happen in public
Where babies grow and turn into killers and and how they become it
They evolve as a result of not havin' food in the cupboard
Knowing that the shit they be doing is foul and grow to love it (Love it)
Where the shit is never staged, every presentation is live
Some'll bang and turn crip and probably start whipping a five
But every now and then you find the mind of a child that has triumphed
Unique characteristics and deals with a higher science
Aspiring to take over the world and really does it
All one-hundred ninety-six million nine-hundred forty thousand square miles of it
Damn it's strange how shit change
But when you look again, ironically some shit is still the same
But in these streets you'll probably find a nigga regularly dreaming
Paying attention to everything, regularly scheming
Trying to calculate the next hustle without attracting heat
There be so many different things that be going down
Where bodies get clapped floating in oceans
It's where the suffering can callous your emotion
But parents pray for their children, constantly hoping, that their babies don’t end up killed, in jail, or smoking
It's where you learn to make things out of nothing
Where people smoke crack instead of taking a Buffrin
Despite the Santa, the ratchet bussin' is common
With what we lived, to most other people it's foreign
You can't join 'em? Beat 'em
Villain teach you where to score some old concrete crumbs
Word is Gold Bond feets powder, corned thumbs
‘specially in the summer bless the drummer, warned ‘em
Tight your cleats, or else its right to the white meat
Some I bite to eat, others write the light bright heat
Despite threat regardless of the aspect, the shack, the burning holes through his black neck, fact check
No flicks, and he scam, thought alot with the quicks
Like the mini camcorder box, it’s a brick lick, classic
As we stalk the great outdoors
Only use the magic nowadays to talk them out they draw to them
Before he go there let me take it where it started from
Smart kid sold some snake spit to a 'tarded bum
Not without carding em’, Mr. Guardin'-em
Find me in the mid-90s Midnight Mauraden-em
Hard, they wanted no part of him
More rhymes and ways to get paid, and there’s a lot of 'em
Great minds see alike take a sneak peek
Peek one foot out and still leave deep
No frontin' if you ain’t go huntin' or southern, you definitely ain’t gon ‘run em
[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]
In the streets is where you witness the worship happen in public
Where babies grow and turn into killers and and how they become it
They evolve as a result of not havin' food in the cupboard
Knowing that the shit they be doing is foul and grow to love it (Love it)
Where the shit is never staged, every presentation is live
Some'll bang and turn crip and probably start whipping a five
But every now and then you find the mind of a child that has triumphed
Unique characteristics and deals with a higher science
Aspiring to take over the world and really does it
All one-hundred ninety-six million nine-hundred forty thousand square miles of it
Damn it's strange how shit change
But when you look again, ironically some shit is still the same
But in these streets you'll probably find a nigga regularly dreaming
Paying attention to everything, regularly scheming
Trying to calculate the next hustle without attracting heat
There be so many different things that be going down
Where bodies get clapped floating in oceans
It's where the suffering can callous your emotion
But parents pray for their children, constantly hoping, that their babies don’t end up killed, in jail, or smoking
It's where you learn to make things out of nothing
Where people smoke crack instead of taking a Buffrin
Despite the Santa, the ratchet bussin' is common
With what we lived, to most other people it's foreign
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