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Since you're my special friend  come closer for a special treat 
(Uh) 
I'm going to let you touch me in a special place 
(But I don't want to touch you there) 
It is never ok to touch someone else's private parts 
Your mom and dad will tell you so 
Verse One: Bigg Jus 
Your eyes get live like Tupac getting shot in a lobby 
Most MC's styles is robbery of my freestyles as a hobby 
I pick apart monkey brains and spread disease through hot zones 
My cameos on promos seem strange like someone's not home 
Bigg Jus the outsider rain on your dream field 
With styles so freaking wet niggas need maxi panty shields 
Expose more moes out the closet that lead paint on your tenement 
Got more Black Thoughts in my Roots than most niggas got in their 
pigment 
It's the baby-faced lieutenant with the luck like Luciano 
Hardcore like Kool G Rap music made for concert piano 
So dust off the candelabra, hip hop's version of the super Don Dada 
With the license to give more ass whippings than Father 
You couldn't see me with binoculars, cover myself like telepathy 
Make most crews disappear like blackheads on Oxy creme 
Under the lights I fuck up mics with my uncanny ability to heat seek 
Through brain facilities with the science of microchemistry 
This history of my hip hop is too deep to be dissected 
Bitch recollect don't even half step or try to test it black 
Bigg Jus, I drop so much shit my anus needs an ice pack 
In fact I'm all that, El-P yo bring the horns back 
(Yes) 
Right through the center of your focus picture a long silver needle 
(You are correct sir) 
Piercing the outer lens of your eyesight 
[El-P] 
And once again 
In one verse we have proven 
That we can rip all these signed big budget motherfuckers 
(89.9) 
Peace to Stretch and Bobbito 
(Bob-bi-to!) 
Verse Two: El-P 
Ye olde lyrics of fire 
Surface bonds from X-Wing fighter stance to B-boy 
Actions fratcture negative thirty below wind chill factor 
The counteraction is just a helpless action of the hapless flinching 
My supersonics leave you mute like Maggie Simpson 
Taxidermist El-P I defy translation 
Instigate and set in crates(?) throughout your whole situation 
Practice exposing perfection like Ricki Like exposes white trash 
My shit is strange X-file number 2-6-7 whiplash 
Triple felon emcee minus the melanin 
When I bomb it the type of shit to make Baby Jessica jump in the well 
again 
Sunshines or rain acid, El-P the battle master 
Lactose breaking down your fucking fractals till you're flaccid 
I'm leaving Las Vegas like a hundred flying Elvises 
Raid, spot my prey, swoop down and cross their pelvises 
Rat nerve like David grill smoke bitch 
Catch my frozen frame suspended 
You couldn't even fuck with my idle fidget 
My birthright I'm pulling swords from stones high tone beam 
Phonetically abort it try to distort it and catch a silent scream, 
fetus 
The raw daddy tactics prove Krush Groove unstoppable 
Testing luck it's like sucking on lead pink popsicles 
The enigma, no one can fuck with me yet but I'm not signed 
(You wanna battle?) 
It's better to look in the 
(mirror) 
Say Candyman five times 
Candyman (whispered 5x) 
Just a promo 
Understand 
(Candyman) 
To be the man you gots to beat the man 
(It's so clear now) 
Me and Bigg Jus 
(The beautiful light) 
Company Flow clan 
(I can touch it) 
Mr. Len, 'sup? 
89.9 
Hit me with that shit some time 
Bigg Jus, Lune TNS 
The almighty El-P 
The imperial DJ Mr. Len 
Company Flow swinging it to you live for '95

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