Verse 1_
Yo, I don't need to hold 9s,
I burn steel and leave bullet holes to riddle up your road signs
Seal them up in an instance so you miss your directions,
My cold rhymes turn summer to winter reflections,
Tell a story melancholy, rain blood on your killer party,
pardon me when I brought the pain to your brittle body
Roll with God H.E.A.Ds so you hardly see me,
Stroll down to B-n-B's and forcefeed a weak emcee.
And nowadays it's even harder to satisfy,
c**ed-up crowds who starve artists with poor appetites,
so I devour with Sharpa soul power,
p*** midas dust, kid, watch the gold shower.
Don't say I never warned you cowards,
the industry sucks, so sour now, when I spit lemon heads go 'yuk!'.
Pukka up lips until death kiss struck.
Suckers wanna hug us but their b****** wanna f***.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.
Verse 2_
I get down to the root of a thing like Alex Haley,
News hound, street journalist type like Candice Bailey,
For those who don't know the name, it's like black Lois Lane at the Metropolis,
only more in tune and on top of s***,
So here's the scoop; most emcees of today are just obnoxious,
content with meagre pay, l*** and a hot chick,
only problem is they fail to see the game's object,
furthermore they glorify murder than who God is.
The results: Obvious! Prison truck and fatherless.
Children f***** from the start, single moms and joblessness,
So how does one reverse the effects of a system,
that makes the people worse than sick till death is just a symptom.
Bio-engineeered weapons like AIDS and syphilis
Tuskegee experiments, airborne epidemic kits.
And ain't no monkey stew eating here,
the West turned Africans at best to c**e junkies of the new year.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.
Verse 3_
Envision; they got us twisted in an unfavourable position,
contortionists couldn't worm their way out of mental prison.
I'm forcing kids to learn the way how to burn down the system
and turn their fears and doubts to optimism.
Rock to rhythms, I drop the knowledge, you caught the wisdom,
now decipher the parallels between life and a cipher.
I rot crumbs and bury 'em from the legs up,
A hot number, might as well marry him like Makeba.
With Sibot I'm wild hot, a nun with striptease,
like Demi Moore commit felonies and come for six weeks,
whether prison or writtens - bend bars like David Blaine,
rapper magician moving target so you can't aim the blame,
same as these chicks that try to lock 'em down,
told the streets I knocked 'em up when I was rockin' shows and shockin' crowds,
hot s** on a platter, yo that comes after,
Then Im Audi, Jetta mach 6, with a foxy in an Astra.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.
Yo, I don't need to hold 9s,
I burn steel and leave bullet holes to riddle up your road signs
Seal them up in an instance so you miss your directions,
My cold rhymes turn summer to winter reflections,
Tell a story melancholy, rain blood on your killer party,
pardon me when I brought the pain to your brittle body
Roll with God H.E.A.Ds so you hardly see me,
Stroll down to B-n-B's and forcefeed a weak emcee.
And nowadays it's even harder to satisfy,
c**ed-up crowds who starve artists with poor appetites,
so I devour with Sharpa soul power,
p*** midas dust, kid, watch the gold shower.
Don't say I never warned you cowards,
the industry sucks, so sour now, when I spit lemon heads go 'yuk!'.
Pukka up lips until death kiss struck.
Suckers wanna hug us but their b****** wanna f***.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.
Verse 2_
I get down to the root of a thing like Alex Haley,
News hound, street journalist type like Candice Bailey,
For those who don't know the name, it's like black Lois Lane at the Metropolis,
only more in tune and on top of s***,
So here's the scoop; most emcees of today are just obnoxious,
content with meagre pay, l*** and a hot chick,
only problem is they fail to see the game's object,
furthermore they glorify murder than who God is.
The results: Obvious! Prison truck and fatherless.
Children f***** from the start, single moms and joblessness,
So how does one reverse the effects of a system,
that makes the people worse than sick till death is just a symptom.
Bio-engineeered weapons like AIDS and syphilis
Tuskegee experiments, airborne epidemic kits.
And ain't no monkey stew eating here,
the West turned Africans at best to c**e junkies of the new year.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.
Verse 3_
Envision; they got us twisted in an unfavourable position,
contortionists couldn't worm their way out of mental prison.
I'm forcing kids to learn the way how to burn down the system
and turn their fears and doubts to optimism.
Rock to rhythms, I drop the knowledge, you caught the wisdom,
now decipher the parallels between life and a cipher.
I rot crumbs and bury 'em from the legs up,
A hot number, might as well marry him like Makeba.
With Sibot I'm wild hot, a nun with striptease,
like Demi Moore commit felonies and come for six weeks,
whether prison or writtens - bend bars like David Blaine,
rapper magician moving target so you can't aim the blame,
same as these chicks that try to lock 'em down,
told the streets I knocked 'em up when I was rockin' shows and shockin' crowds,
hot s** on a platter, yo that comes after,
Then Im Audi, Jetta mach 6, with a foxy in an Astra.
Chorus_
B to the E, to the N, to the S, H, A, R, P, A
y'all know the rest.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
banging, they be jamming headphones to death,
S to the I, to the B, to the O, to the T,
tell no lies, yo that white boy be fresh.
The B to the E, to the A, to the T, to the S,
kill your eardrums 'till you're tone deaf.