[announcer] Mr. Len, a.k.a. Space Ghost, please commence intro Company Flow, perform, J-Treds, prepare El-P, prepare, you have approximately five minutes Fuck the bullshit, Time/Warner will fall Record labels will fall, the Earth will crumble Begin
[El Producto] Enter the all city access and encounter the likes of these Regionally no one relaxes, actual No wonder I'ma type to crush contenders with pure chewing satisfaction Pervade your ultraharmonic with the back of your whole mediocre faction Sonic boom head zoom contact off antaxion Elbowed with a vacumn pure death MC's with closed captions Wind up in the willows, catch the whirling dervish Or the dead and dumb millenium is at your service Flow the plaque, instigate lyrics then backfile another MC who thought cause he was dipped in powder blue that he could rock pastel Got your hip-hop essence out of the Cross Colours catalog while I launch technology Ask L. Ron Hubbard to break down my Scientology Fuckin up to the chest I bucks the city us Bad Touchin Boogie to break to bumrushin Fresh start taming biofeed this track achieves pain penicilin crack and AZT couldn't relieve Being Sizzlean I will trim the fat like Susan Powders Disrespectin burners like cap, lickin off shots from clocktowers Play ring around the dead nation The Deadhead situation, situated to see-saw creation MC's are helpless like Gadzook keep faggot like RuPaul troop to the new sensation fuck that whole wannabe gangster fascination The illusion is broke, or cock albums mispoke And got the El P rookie cards stuck in they bicycle spoke For those VH-1 crystalized pseudo rip flows Let the liquid talon soak into the seam of your coat Meet the professional dead or alive politrick technician Straight neck capital P for the deep throat dickin I was that first monkey to touch the Monolith, delinquent Up in that crack like white squaw for the weekend and I sunk your Battleship Parked in a hot zone, live to the E. Bola Manifest brain tumors through the phone as you roam in your Motorolas
[J-Treds] All hail, J and El the fan drives, we got the grand prize Foes fantasize runner up, the closest they can see it because skills so lenient I've been boastin with half a flow They can't handle the whole weight son, diagnosis, bullemic believe it My best line, too advanced for Pop Warner you got cornered scouting report, can't scramble in the clutch But when I get down, it's third and inches threatenin to score How you gonna tackle the topic when you suckers two hand touch it? We're too damn much for your defense break you down, zone weakens Words bring embarassment, Captains look like third string in comparison to this too well known to kick fat flow And beat suckers straight up and down, Tic-Tac-Toe Game over when I blow your mind, but then I aimed over explosive cuts Verbal flamethrower, serving roasted nuts as after battle snacks you wish you wore a cup in your panties So all you pussies in this rap game, time to up the ante What's your fancy? Big time skills or small penny Dead to latter my varsity letter, fatter than your JV Only play with the big boys, toys bringin that weak shit Before the battle I hit em off with fat, ladies latest release on cassette They were done from the start Ran for the finish got detoured from the fast route by another One spot holder hold ground for our town, N.Y. For those who don't acknowledge they get left ass out plumbers
[announcer] Congratulations Len, you have made it halfway They are falling, their armies are retreating The job is not over, you must continue, please move forward El P, bring out tactic evasion, start, summation equals now Do not fail us, we're counting on you
[El Producto] For thoughts I see hot like three males with a cot included Where the Sidewalk Ends and all your linear math gets diluted Infant when he Star Spangled, packed a brand circular medicine and deject wreck-the-tangle Fuck Time/Warner and it's affiliates, for runnin that wannabe Big Willie shit Leave those fancy clothes up to the Pope List all personal posessions in your liner note While I connect wreck genuinely cuttin through these red ropes Son grip the love spigot, yeah that's the ticket This platoon pop 99 Luftballons While the one hit blunder rushes exhaust like city buses I bond, like resin cause for the sake of skill, lost and found Found by DNA patterns to wish you could climb Just a little girl around the way of my set, that's the time Enter the evil opus, focus on rap scrambling Record labels to expect not reaction is bad gambling I know a few true that make we, collusion El P and J-Treds pentrate cranial intrusion
[J-Treds] We do this one time so catch it, two of the illest and unsigned Lethal seperate but combined, friction created a frontline a rhyming Got you steppin, tryin to evade us bustin caps in your thoughts But now crossfire catching's added to your job skills top of your resume Submitted applyin, for lyric positions that we occupied yesterday but got the pink slip, labels on some not think shit Requiring, brain absence lobotomy reigns/rains, rapids That trap gets full, by J and El evasion tactics Our equations infinite, punks distortin random access Havin half words recyclin tracks like plastic, please forfeit Flippin the same script, I hope it has reinforcements, or else it's torn to pieces while our thesis is untouched Saved on my PC under the filename of Funcrush Megabytes bumrush, by one punch, upon my keyboard My data's the top secret that mad suckers will fiend for Come from the last to be cut from Dream Team Three We be the ones who shine, prepare for butt, kickin Rarely benchwarmin throwin down, all too often While others barely touch rim and that's when they're butt licking
[announcer] Done, job well done They know who we are, they know we know who they are They will fall, they are going to have to repeat Understand, they will no longer monopolize Time/Warner will fall, I'm proud of you, come home
