X-Files

Well if Jesus is your Lord
Then praise your God
If Islam’s your thing Allahu Akbar
And if you represent the six-pointed star
Well then my Heebs back home told me to say «Shalom»
I put grooves in the mix
I make moves like the Knicks
And take you straight up the lane
I block out the frame
And then I freeze it, believe it
You needs it like heroin
Before you get your fight on
Kid, get your stare on
Here come the Don Dada making Ghettos Red Hotta
I drop the boom-batta like Jake LaMotta
I can single you out and isolate ya like Mono
I’m undefeated like Rocky Marciano
Hit you’re right below the belt
Now you’re singing soprano
Talk whatcha talk still you don’t know what I know
Some fiend for ass
Some fiend for cash
Some do the knowledge
Some do the math
Some stick to the road
Some stray from the path
Some do the knowledge
Some do the math
Now East Coast, West Coast
Money, what’s the beef
It’s goin down rough like swallowing teeth
I say word to Thin Lizzy, kid I get busy
And I’ll knock all of y’all off this Wonderwall
Cause on a daily basis I rock like Oasis
Bit the Beatles style from a fetus to a child
I kill fourteen billion cells puffing L’s
Stomping devils on all nine levels of Hell
Check the transmission, hear the transition
Observe the technician in finite vision
Your highlight reels are laced by drug deals
As you scheme to check feels on chicks in high heels
It’s all bright and sunny when you’re holding big money
Buy my Sonics got Youth plus my Mud got Honey
I can be the King of Grunge if I blows my sponge away
«There's a little black spot on the sun today»
Which I don’t care if my soul’s up there
So come on and feel the Sting from the true «Pain King!»
Some fiend for ass
Some fiend for cash
Some do the knowledge
Some do the math
Some stick to the road
Some stray from the path
Some do the knowledge
Some do the math