| Motherfuckers always talkin' that- |
| Shut yo' bitch ass up, ohh! |
| One time, yeah |
| He-he |
| Knamsayin'? |
| Once again |
| (All you motherfuckers on the internet talkin' shit like I give a fuck) |
|
| (You little piss-ass) |
| I hear you motherfuckers, what? |
| (Suck my demacompas) |
| What, what? |
|
| What, you thought I was a buster like ya are? |
| All the complaints and bitches |
| I'm from the block where they bang and niggas ball up they fist-ses |
| Just a small-time hustle, servin' tapes on the street |
| Ain't fuckin' with the pen, so I wave 'pon the beat |
| Hooked up with 40-deuce, now we droppin' straight heat |
| I am not one of these hip-hop enthusiasts |
| Out claimin' the culture, when it seems that you're losin' it |
| I'm makin' good music, for the niggas that I kick it with |
| The kind you scared to hang around, 'cause every time we out |
| On the town, they start shit! |
| Ayo, Eclipse, I know you feel me on this topic |
| So before I zone out, won't you go ahead and drop it |
|
| Maaaaaaan, you not a killer, just a drawn out shooter |
| I ain't know one hog, who'da ever own a computer |
| You'd have thought, I'd have a source 'bout it, go hard for supporters |
| But I can't hang with no busters who spend they days, and make orders |
| And nights, on the net, trapped, screamin' they futuristics out |
| Examine my raps, and mention that they too simplistic |
| You must have missed the bus, I bust for those who touch down on ground |
| Ab-above or below, I hear you holler under, but we know better than that (Haha) |
| Who you think completed the tunnels for you rats to squeeze through? |
| Show your face, you'll get pummelled, on the wax we'll tease you |
| We ease you (Maaaan) down the road, blow yo' ass off blind |
| Put your computer into sleep mode (Sleep mode) |
| No secret code to figure out |
| You can catch me in the lab and we can have a discussion based on what I'm about |
| My homie Murs'll hurt your feelings, crush your dreams |
| Wake up fool, this hip-hop ain't exactly what it seems |
|
| I'm zonin' (Yeah) |
| Microphonin', to my Mid-Town niggas down to check yo' chin |
| I'm zonin' (Bitch) |
| Microphonin', (Huh) to all my Living Legends rippin' shows off the hen' (Yeah) |
| I'm zonin' |
| Microphonin', (Yeah) to all my hip-hop heads who always drop ten |
| (Yeah, you'd better fuckin' shut up) |
| I'm zonin' |
| Microphonin', to my people on the shore waitin' for the two-ten |
|
| Now, all you conscious rappers really need to check yo' selves |
| Disrespectin' other artists just to gain respect yo' selves |
| When Master P (Uhhh), probably done more for the community |
| Than yo' ass'll ever do, wrapped in yourself, write your cyphers |
| So yo' ass never knew |
| A lot of these thugs is actually better than you |
| So, nigga, raise your skills |
| And don't hate the next man or how he pays his bills |
| Since when did the music, become the major problem with our community anyway? |
| I spit the real to my little homies each and every day |
| While yo' ass is turnin' up your Walkman, ignorin' and ashamed |
| Of what's around your way |
| I'd like to say: (Listen, listen) |
| All you hip-hop hippies, can suck my dick |
| 'Cause what's your revolution without the chips? |
| Zip is what you get, so get off your high horses |
| And combine forces, that's the only way we'll make it |
| Divide and conquer was the rule, it's time that we break it |
|
| Break it, break it, break it, break it... |
| We gotta sit round and come together |
|
| I'm zonin' (Hey) |
| Microphonin', to all my righteous brothers speakin' revolution |
| I'm zonin' (Uh) |
| Microphonin', to my negative niggas that's livin' in sin |
| I'm zonin' (What?) |
| Microphonin', to my peoples liftin' weights in the yard, fuck the gym |
| I'm zonin' (Uhh) |
| Microphonin' (Yeah), to my B-Boys in the circles let's do it again |
| (Shut yo' can, nigga) |
|
| A gypsy to the heart, must stay on the move |
| Travellin' to Sunday, got me thinkin' next |
| To my homies Sarah Beck and Duncan |
| Can't forget Rowan and Saruze, don't violate parole, fool |
| And of course shorty with the book of short stories |
| Father Yakee, Yosee, and Tosee, and librole, and No I.D |
| Actually, it's down the street, at the homie's house |
| Convinced myself to leave, but that's my only doubt |
| Won't miss the plastic people, or bullshit rap personas |
| But what about the 'Dale and hangin' out on the corner? |
| Behind leavin' Lucies, Lisas, Martins |
| And startin' all over, adventurin' to the unknown |
| Once again, all alone |
| Runnin' from the enemy's stability, until I'm out of breath |
| It is the S, makin' change hard to accept |
| And change is one of life's few guarantees |
| Livin' life, in to win, Legendary MCs, I'm zonin'... |
|
| (Yeah, shut yo' bitch ass up) |
| What? |
|
| Just zonin' (Zonin') |
| Microphonin', 'nother night, another show, and I'm faded, faded in- |
|
| I'm zonin' |
| Microphonin'... |
| (Yeah, shut yo' bitch ass up) |
| What's up to the CMA, the bar, the album's tight |
| Aesop, the pack of wolves, you lie sideways, game |
| I invented that shit |
| I invented that, corny motherfucker |
| What's up, motherfuckers, we gon' do this shit, we gon' get our shit |
| Fuck all you motherfuckers hatin', think I don't hear you? |
| But I hear you |
| And you know where I'm at, holler at me, 427, bitch |
| Holler at me, you know where I'm at |
| All the time, Coperdale Ave., Mid Town, motherfucker |
| That's right, huh, just, just |
| I'm zonin', what? What? What? |
| At the bus stop, zonin', what? What? |
| Zonin' |
|