Man: Now we'd like to turn the pages back a little ways and do some of those great tunes of yesteryear, starting with a little...      [Note: lyrics from "If 6 was 9" by Jimi Hendrix]   White collar conservative   Flashin' down the street   Pointin' their plastic finger at me,   Hopin' soon my kind will drop and die   But I'm gonna wave my freak flag high      MC, MC   Sit back and learn   MC, MC   Sit back and learn      (Lyrics Born) got something to say   And it goes a little something like this (this, this)      From the gate what you know about rapping motherfucker   You can't even hold the microphone without it feedbacking   Since the days of speed rapping   I've been snapping cats' spinal bones   'barrass them in front of women take their little titles home   Bear in mind I come from an era in time   Where you actually had to have lyrics that rhyme   Let my baritone grind your insides, paralyze your cerebellum   Throw your reality out of alignment   Flip shit, on some pimp shit, on some rock shit   Some rap rock testosterone rip shit   Look inside every magazine you read about me   Got an excerpt, your sissy ass crew's afraid to say the fucking f-word   Tired of playing games, I don't know the password   How's about this: "Open up the damn cash drawer"   Throw the keys on the dashboard   Let the real players play this shit   Y'all can fucking red-shirt      [Chorus]   Pack up get started walking   Fall back now on your losses   You can't accomplish   But you want it plead no contest baby   Forfeit don't rock the call pit   Chalk this up as a conquest   Some things is sacred   I don't play with my stage or my audience      Smooth talking charismatic ass ill   Talk you lady outta bra   Honda hatchback hand-held y'all starved   And I'm dangling a shrimp by the fan tail   Whole audience about to fall over the handrail   I can't tell - is that rapping?   You sound like a fucking parrot just crash landed   Man this shit is ass backwards these days real crazy   I can count on one hand cats that's truly creative   And the rest is all get-along go-along guys   Happy not to get involved just along for the ride   No vision, no drive, spirit or wherewithal   You can get mad and stay mad at that I don't care at all   Huge pair of balls, keep 'em cool under a parasol   Paragon of my era like Cereborn [Note: Cereborn is an alternative pronunciation of Celeborn]   How many different kinda tracks have y'all heard me on   Exactly and I served them all      [Chorus]      I spent ten years in these godforsaken rap trenches   With small daily victories this shit's a game of inches   I sustained minor injuries scuffles with the missus   For the chance to make history I don't regret it for a minute   Seeing cats drop a small fortune on a plush ride (blau!)   Couple years later fools is upside down   Tell me what the fuck did you get in this game for   It's like a whole world of squirrels only one acorn   I don't usually like to take it back   But realistically if this was a different era   Y'all would fail miserably   Ghetto team I'm going in, let me down fifty feet   I never let this industry put me in the guillotine   Rappel down the skyscraper kicking in the plexiglass   Plastique on the safe boom blown to Leningrad   Stuff the cash and the formula in the fifty bag   Slide down the rope, twenty stories hail a taxi cab      [Chorus]       MC, MC   Sit back and learn   MC, MC   Sit back and learn      (Lyrics Born) got something to say   And it goes a little something like this (this, this, this, this)