?Sahara zombie?  Yeah  For all those affiliated  Yeah yeah    [Tame One]  Word is bond my songs ain't wack, and any nigga  Who thinks that, they must can't rap, and can't get that  I got dues with receipts, peeps who make mad beats  So if you get souped, I add beef  Commander in Chief of the belief fonta leafs burn slower  The end knot mixin E&J with soda keeps me geeked up  So if you got weed then speak up  So I can twist up and leave you with that shit in tea cups  We bust the raps that matter, while you battle  Your own boys, just to check to see who's fatter  I put it together like McGyver, bombin your rhyme cypher  Helpin to represent funk like diapers  I'm one of them prime time rhymes without rotation  But I'm patient, cause Tame One don't owe no station nathan  I'd rather hide my tape collection like I'm Nixon  Watergate nine-six in effect, the deck's missin    Chorus: El Da Sensai    Crews get taken out quick, who's the best  Tame and MC El bringin lyrics to ya chest, one two  (repeat 2X)    [El Da Sensai]  One two, Artifacts, nine-six  My forms, patterns, some might think it's arrogant  I'm transparent, but with lyrics it's apparent  That I be the greater rhyme stater with the data  Saturn Sega, player, wack nigga hater  Instant flow, like five minute grits flips  To rock for the Jack's haps be on some other shit  Uncover skits like a private dick hits  From all different directions, chop you into sections  Like a jigsaw, shit be raw, rock for alla y'all tall  Raps, and brawls, touch all jaws  With the gall, foot in the mix like Hammer grammar forms  Check the track, flip the song Hits From the Bong, wrong  Side bumpin in your ride  Graffitism tokin ism gaggin off the lyrical jism  New Jersey native, creative with the sorts  B-boy wishin for battles check the injury reports  But there are no flaws in this rap lord's rest  Open wide niggaz, we bring it to ya chest    Chorus