What Goes On, Part 7 The Roots

Do you wanna know.. what goes on? *2X*
(Tell me baby!)
Do you wanna know.. what goes on? *2X*
(Tell me baby!)

(Black Thought)
Yo, niggas can not see me, can not be me or
Capture the metaphoric phrase blasted off stage when I tour
I am but a messanger born to blow up
My niggas knew it all the time, lyrically I was a dime
At the age of nine, shorty Black, could rhyme
On the mic I never wasted time, I'm, the exquisite wizard
When I visit shorties I hit it I'm cool as a blizzard
Nigga what? You wanna bust your fronts, with the butter, my
Black paper chase ya and then erase ya rhyme
Sucker, MC's how I hate it when you waste your time
My state of mind, shine like it's diamond studded
I'm rhyme budded on stage, word is bond, when I'm on, I rage
Got the 12 gauge at the rest so play, and into rest you lay
My everyday M.O. is gettin dough cause times is rougher
Than a mother for brothers to scuffle shuffle your cards kid
Cause the odds is, niggas'll hustle and live, foul
This wild environment hostile produce, the music in me
So my style's the blend of what is and was
You could get a buzz from it, but enter too deep
And reach a summit you fall and then plummit beyond real
Where you're killed if your raps ain't ill
Another crab motherfucker 'nother cap to peel
Through these amps, I motivate camps to dance
Niggas too advanced, I warn, I'm just tellin you what goes on