Head Rush

Before the Greeks and the creeks, before you could stand
Before your hands from your feet, from a band or a beat
We would stand on the street, with our hand on our heat
Twelve grams, twelve feet away, balled up in a sheet
Of Reynold’s wrap, one smack, leaves your dentals back
Your voice get quiet like the voice in the instrumental track
Slick from the lip lisp, son, sip the citrus
My voice unfolds, with the soul of The Whispers
On the block, we rock loud like The Pistols
Up in the crib, my wiz drinkin' a Harvey’s Bristol
Natural flavor, yours be artificial
I blow holes in skin, like big nose through snotty tissue
They go berserk, when the dollar dollar bill is on
The thrill is gone… upgrade to the silicone
That’s worth the four billion, eight hundred milli-on
It’s not official until I smack the W, silly on
From the valleys of Ohio, to the sands of Cairo
Still hit like the whirlwind kick of Ryu
Zig-Zag-Zig Allah, still puzzled like the jigsaw
You renege, you get jigged, pa
Pete Rock exclusive
We bogard the road, like trucks on the turnpike
Smoke by the load, just to see what it burns like
Architectural design, intellectual rhyme
The bishop strike, movin' on a diagonal line
The rook’s trapped, scholars they want the books back
The piece, they turn us off, the moment they look back
The castling position, made weak by a wing pawn
Knights lose armor from the pressure we bring on
They fired all these shots in the rhymes with mad flares
Kept a cramped game, many posted on bad squares
The king’s the kick, the queen’s the snare
The bass are minor pieces that move in a pair
Quick to break through; an unparalleled opponent
I do it on the regular, at any given moment
Check the venue, those who make the saga continue
Before you check the credits, the swords is all in you
It’s real… it’s real… it’s real… it’s real…