Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery   Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery      Well it's the microphone ripper, party-rockin Gift of Gab   I hit the scene, lift you on my beam   And send you through my high plains   Mind-train shiftin through your migraines   Spit with that I hit with patterns get you twisted sideways      And I'm the head honcho, sport golden tonsils   Inventin new styles all the time like pronto   Four by four, runnin over suckers like a Bronco   Haters say the lyrics ain't Gonzo but they wrong though      We walking up and locking up the game and sparking up the flame   You're not gone' be the same when our flow reach your brain   It's 'bout to bust      Not your crush, show up at our show in a tacky dress   Sparking us, talking 'bout your prowess but we're not impressed      Checkmate, populous crush, monstrous plush   Rhymes that just thrust onto your buck buck   Just rush      Just rushin' like the Nile River, power we deliver   See it's (going down in mystery)      Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery   Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery      Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery   Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery      You know, I know, you know, I know   (It's going down in mystery)      (Gift of Gab won't you learn 'em and assure 'em)   (That the fire that you spit'll burn 'em)   Burning up the track and turning up the action   (Murder one attack him)   Serving what you're rapping   Urban gutter anthems   (Certain of the fact)   Curtains for the wack   Searching for the knack   (You're pervin' off the fatness)   Fury of the rather early mornings after   (Worldly like disasters)   Purely just the baddest, the chief clamp down on 'em   (Like a vice on a melon squeezing tight on your temples)   Feel the bass (as the wind blows)   In your face (and your mental) hear the taste   Instrumentals even break down on you like this   (We surpass your previous standards) drastically   (Mastering bass), setting nights so bright   (Beneath the skylight)   And days (and weeks) and months (go by)   And years (and decades) and we still so fly   (While the others are just fly by night)   And not tight (we keep writing)   Like scribes (but we tight) and so wise (c'mon)      The rhyme historian exploring everything that we got   And even more so we exploring everything that they not   These are the glory days for lyricisits, forever we plot   Wait wait wait wait hold on a second bring it back (we plotx4, c'mon)   The rhyme historian exploring everything that we got   And even more so we exploring everything that they not   These are the glory days of lyricisits, forever we plot   (It's going down in mystery)      Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery   Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery      Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery   Sit back, close your eyes   Peep back, got you open wide   I'll let you get a taste of me   It's going down in mystery