| Once upon a time ago, long before commercialized | 
| Beats became sysnthesized and little girls were mezmerized | 
| There was one mic and one light in a hip-hop shack | 
| And you moved the masses or they moved you out the back | 
| Slack with the skills and you’ll never pay the bills | 
| Buying up the brands with the octaginal frills | 
| But when a brother flexed, we called him the Flexor | 
| Beats were the melody, lyrics were the texture | 
| Rhymes were webbed and the Serch light got stuck in | 
| So follow for the record or keep keep on truckin' | 
| Maybe you need the method of finding what the vibe is | 
| Recollect the whole nine just like the Prince of Tides did | 
| Playing what’s funny with Muhammed, Tip, and Phife | 
| It’s keeping it alive, not a dive from the live | 
| But the dead so selector rewind | 
| To the scenes that are imprinted in my mind | 
| Recollect, the recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The scenes from the mind | 
| Swing with the groove that got you swinging from the rafters | 
| 808 state for the kids to the gafflers | 
| Make an impact the community can check for | 
| And if you’re on the legend tip, nuff respect for | 
| Coming back to the crew and not to every but T-shirt | 
| Every lunchbox, wack record, don’t give a damn | 
| Fan club, yabba dabba doo dud | 
| You can make the fattest record yo, and still be crud | 
| Brothers want to keep you in the heart where the home is | 
| Where the dome is and definitely where the microphone is | 
| Serch knows the one light is bright and don’t stench and | 
| Don’t bend, so friend, I’ll send the flowers to | 
| The funeral home of the hip-hop devoured by the | 
| Mass appeal, you get the seal of removal | 
| Not approval, cause only Woodsy Owl gives a hoot | 
| So nice casket nice suit | 
| Loot can be got for the long haul by the six recs | 
| Down the road and you can still hit the long ball | 
| Out of there, over there to the spectators in aisle nine | 
| Who ain’t heard Quest when they told them «Check the Rhyme» | 
| I ain’t eating no green eggs and swine | 
| I ain’t eating no green eggs and swine | 
| I ain’t eating no green eggs and swine | 
| As I recollect the scenes from my mind, flute time | 
| Recollect, the recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The scenes from the mind (Repeat 2x) | 
| Back to the mic to the stand to the light | 
| ]From the globe to the lobe to the inner ear so all night | 
| Different tracks can be heard in different arenas | 
| For the clubs, the heads, the rides, the Beemers | 
| Somebody starts checking for the fact Serch is long gone | 
| So I rip clubs from LA to Strech Armstrong | 
| Along the tribal road we lose parts too easily | 
| So I say peace to Eric and Beasly | 
| Bobbito and the '97 street crew | 
| Sec Lover, my brother Honululu | 
| Which and proper Tom is the call for the firm grips | 
| Serch fixes his rhymes, shoots 'em on the sperm tip | 
| Milky is the flow, I hope it stays protected | 
| A&R gets respect for being more selective | 
| Cause gone are the days of the deaf, dumb, and brain dead | 
| And I close the book on the scenes from the head | 
| Recollect, the recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The recollections, recollect | 
| The scenes from the mind (Repeat 2x) |