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featuring Defari and Dilated Peoples 

<Defari> 
Don't front 
So many claim the fame  but never see the day 
When lyrically they could even run  in the Triple A's 
This here's the major leagues  where big hits are guaranteed 
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC 
One more time that cat Defari 
With a sting operation so blatant we call it franchise 
Man sign  independent on some enterprise 
It's time to shoot straight, innovate, and make the world realize 
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown 
I strive to be a Golden State all-time great, like J-Ro 
I gets burned when the Technics turn on mix shows and mix tapes 
That you hear when a car turns left on the street 
You know that shit that make you bounce 
'Nuf respect to Rasco and Evidence 
Yo hold it down on the mound 
I'm not like Hideo, don't got it Nomo 
I'm more like Randy Johnson, guaranteed heat for sure 

Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed 
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues 
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat 

<Evidence> 
I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with attitude 
The signal's in, and my catcher's 'Fari Herut 
I got to risin on the mound, talkin at pen-point 
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my joints 
And body parts, world-wide, Evidence is known 
Have you fallin out the batter's box when curves are thrown 
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no cost 
And just 'cause I choose to wander don't mean I'm lost 
I got the button-up jersrey, Dilated written in cursive 
I spill my heart to wax and put the in the open 
Three men against nine players, yo, that shit's unheard of 
Plus my eyes are open in takin' folks 
One cat got on base but he didn't learn his lesson 
I faked to first and picked him off at second 
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldn't understand 
That cat's out, time waits for no man 
Bust it 

Don't front 
This where the big hits are guaranteed 
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues 
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 
But when you step up to the plate 

<Rasco> 
It be the large caliber rhyme 
Ask yourself why try 
Microphone slash Rasco Defari 
Evidence, rhymes that set the precedence 
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox 
Major league, set to intrigue you small fee 
Nothin' to the game, we doused them small flames 
Take names 
Head for the fence, we track prints 
Track down the scent, then fold your whole tent 
Stay bent 
The illest on rhymes at all times 
Call your bullpen, Rasco just pulled into the lot 
Be strikin em out with one shot 
While your pitch be hittin the plate at one spot 
Down the pipe 
The major lieutenant that earn stripes 
Bet strap in, cadet to captain 
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up 
And watch the triple threat come fuck them plans up 
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that sayin hymns 
Niggas still rappin 'bout clothes and car rims 
Man debted 
But dishin that corn, you get spreaded 
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on unleaded 
Couldn't match, you out the line-up, you been scratched 
Sittin on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the trench 
We loadin the guns to stack funds 
Went from stackin ones to stackin them one-huns 
Scored runs 
The hotter the bat, the more fat 
It's Dilated, Ras, 'Fari, we bust back 
Like that, like that, like that, like that 
Like that y'all, like that, check it 

Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed 
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues 
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat 
Don't front 
<repeat> 
<Scratching, fades out>

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