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Verse One: Bigg Jus 
Rugged like Rwanda  don't wind up far or get chopped up 
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up 
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol 
Organized graffiti that jizzin' can't control 
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache 
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me 
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate  lyrically 
detonating 
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser 
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser 
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature 
Wide open like the grand canyon 
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon 
Searching for my style like Job-Corps 
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store 
But sabotaging me ain't easy 
I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese 
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro 
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero 
Just a small sample of the abstract 
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act 
Whether shooting joints or wax 
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack 
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap 
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that 
Here's what I want you to do 
Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade 
Runner 
When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer 
Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders 
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence 
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics 
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic 
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P 
Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee 
Verse Two: El-P 
Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty 
Color me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot 
Teetering on the edge of outer space 
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me 
As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn 
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid 
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty 
Drinking water out the well of life and I'mma piss it back rusty 
Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right 
I'm on 'em like they're on pacemakers hooked up to clappers 
Clap on, welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me 
The witness to the shit you wanna be 
DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant 
Feeding on fats passed and dipped 
In and out of my invisible state 
Forerunner rep tyrannical 
Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical 
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel 
Shoot a head up, what bitch you're boxing shadows 
Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle 
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single 
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl 
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll 
Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket 
You're faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets 
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors 
Bet but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores 
Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven 
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed 
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks 
Cause I'm a thinker 
Evil anus letting off stinkers 
BJ Eight steps to perfection 
The sum of each part forms an octagon 
Let rhyme styles get sparked 
EP Eight stpes to perfection 
The sum of each part forms an octagon 
Where rhyme styles get sparked 
Verse Three: Bigg Jus 
The holy terror, last moves you never won't win 
Playing taps on a violin 
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin 
I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaicin like a chin 
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted 
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted 
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit 
Just to letcha know, never do I use it 
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher 
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee 
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees 
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets 
They fuck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it 
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose 
That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math 
To kick any type sport like the vandal 
I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa 
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw 
Massacre one two three you're taking and tell 'em 
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling 
I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals 
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple

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