[Sample: "Have you heard it? Sing along with it.    If you didn't hear it you're gonna hear it right now."]      [Slug]   Bam, the door way opened for me    I saw ways and told the story   Raw day dreams of holding glory   Junior high,   Hall way kings   Lockin' taggin' MCs   Beat boxin', breakin' Zulu Nation wannabees   It didn't take long to see who would stay strong   High school upon   Some B-Boys put their gang bangs on   But some kept on doing   Step on to ruin   Others that were pursuing the same shit we thought we ruled in   But what a surprise    The passion for being the best    Puts a quest for allies to rest   Dead   In the Midwest where heads    Is just a hand full    In a land of gangstas   Players, replacements, pricks, banjos   We scramble   To break MCs that may appreciate it   Guided by their envy insecurity and their hatred   Separated by the gimmie props technique   And a desire to be the tops this week   I gotta floss the speak   Cause talk is cheap   Even the broke kids can afford it   That's why I stand close and if you're dope then I'm supportive   But if not   We'll keep the mic warm   For the next one   Respect the artform   And make your wishes on the stars born      Within the movement   Fact checkin' tryin' to completely avoid all channels of backstepping   From the lines of painted the concrete   that reside on lakestreet   To the way we close our eyes to sleep   And drift through Deep Space 9 type shit   To find this   I've been around for as long as sound    I've been to that not so fresh faze   And that not so serious state but I've evolved   Metamorphed manifestate      I used to be young, dumb and full of vision   Like it was religious rituals   I made initial decisions   I wanted to be a rapper world renowned   From Minneap to the Bronx   Capture girls and crowns   Snap, crackle and stomp   That's what I found   The abyss that sits in-between the one that holds the mic and those that    don't even listen   Formed some crews   Rocked talent shows at schools   Saturdays on the 18 make my way down to the record pool   I met a grip of people that was bullshit   Was down with a lot of people that was bullshit   But I bull shit from the asshole of an angel before I let him hassle and    strangle   The love triangle between me the mic and the turntable   Went to studios   We want to make demos   We want to do shows and rock our own instrumentals   Do our own production      Fuckin' around with this kid Kazir   Nitwit engineer   Barely knew his own equipment, Atmosphere   The prefix was urban   Wrecked shows   Made friends made foes   Overall we made flows   And right now as I sit here writing this   I'm buggin' off of the people in my life that made me like this      Within the movement   Fact checkin'   Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of backsteppin'   From the lines of painted concrete   that reside on Franklin Ave   To the dead bird on the elevator   To that short in your cross fader   I never got lost later   For efforts to pester   Just throw your hands up in the air like a leper   I've been to that not so fresh faze   And to that not quite so serious state   Metamorph manifestate      Well sometimes it rings and I don't answer it   That's it no asterisks   No thirst to find the circumstances   It was planted in me deep   It was nurtured and it grew   Gave it sleep and nutrition   It was efficient let it through   There are a few that have developed when I let them in my spectrum   For the rest of em   I give them just enough to cause infection   Not trippin' on attention   But if you ofer it it's welcome   Open arms patient charms   I know the words and I can spell them   Seldom is it   When one inquisits   Do they leave with this interest   In fact most begin crave the visits   Bringin' me to the table    That's it no more no less   The love the life the stress   Slug, the mic, the mess   Tested   Yes, I've been tested and I've tested some   I'm not sayin' I'm the best   Believe I'm not   Like the rest of em   Just sayin' I'm better than you   That's my mind state   My rhymes take me into   When I check one two   I guess some do get pissed   But intentions were to inspire   Built the empire before I get tired   The ones that tear me down don't know it   But they're the same ones that build me   Now quiet lean your head say, "Yes you can feel me."      [Sample: "Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I?   I am now 80 years old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely    what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, they flatter    me everyday, of my life. I am now going to subject myself to a rigorous    test in order to find out really what I am. I don't care about? I don't    about rule, anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I must    find out what I am before I die."]