[Canibus]   Yo, yo   If you just listen to my lyrics every day for a couple of weeks   My techniques will eventually kill you just like red meat   The Bhagavad Gita beliefs I speak be so deep   Most critics get mad because there's nothin to critique   Whenever I'm rappin or rhymin   with irrefutably remarkable timin   I'm like, Charlie Chaplin pantomimin   If you John Blaze, or you James Flames   or you Jack Cremation, I'm Jermaine Propane (Jermaine Propane)   No pain no gain in this rap game   For the fortune and fame in order to remain   Most real MC's, learn to adapt to the change   or get washed away like tears in the rain, in the rain y'all      Chorus: Wyclef, Product, Pras      [Clef] Just ride, just ride, ah just ride e'rybody just ride   Just ride, just ride, ah just ride e'rybody just ride   [Pro] When you in the streets and you're drivin in your V   if you can see what I see, you're prepared for the jackers   [Can] Old school, old school   [Pras] Everybody got to pack a mac now      [Canibus]   Yo, if you wanna know, how I kick a flow   when I rip a show, with my lyric-al, I'ma let you know   It's difficult, cause I'm a part spiritual, part para-physical miracle   And I'ma blackout in a minute too   Spittin like Bone-Thugs like    "Nigga-what? I'm-fin-to-get-a-gun and stick-em-up"   then crush a Thug's Bones with a chrome slug   The black Cyrano DeBergerac of rap   with the ghetto Anglo-Sax' poetic syntax   In fact, nigga don't even give me dap when I see you   Just don't give me no ice grill eye contact either   When you see me, whylin like Beenie on the speakers   "Zim zimma -- who got the fire for my reefa?"      Chorus: Product, Pras, Wyclef      [Pro] You came home from a bid a nigga was in your crib   And the whole time you thought your girl was celebate   [Can] Old school old school   [Pras] You locked up and she need some di-ick   [Clef] Just ride, just ride, ah just ride e'rybody just ride   Just ride in the hood, just ride, all my .. uh, ah just ride      [Canibus]   Yo physically I move at a velocity   that'll break your stopwatch if you clockin me   My concrete jungle is like Jumanji   Iller than what you seen in the cinema   A five foot eight, nigga with more horsepower than eight cylinders   My brain consists of twin Pentium chips   Double the clock speeds of a 586   And nothin about my physical matrix is BASIC   I kick flavor beyond what your tongue is capable of tastin   You'll be so surprised you won't believe your own eyes   It's like a Jamaican seein the snow for the first time   Rhymes of a sort, that distort space and time   It's like explainin color to a man that was born blind      Chorus: Product      [Pro] Crimes on the street, come from a lack of eatin   It's not my cup of tea, but I'll give them the BEST   Motherfuckin BEST   And if you still out here I kick yo' ass tomorrow   [Can] Old school, old school (c'mon!)   [Pro] And if you still out here, I kick yo' ass tomorrow   [Can] Old school, old school (c'mon y'all)   [Pro] Frontin like you buyin food but you buyin crack bottles      [Wyclef]   Ah just ride, ah just ride   Everybody in the East just ride   Ah just ride, ah just ride   Everybody in the West just ride   Ah to the South, down South   Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah   Ah just ride