Got a buzz like I'm Georgia Tech
They're still cheering like I'm all that's left
The air is toxic when you draw your breath
Resurrect the music, I'm snatching it from claws of death
Vital signs are improving, I make em lay down
An idle mind is usually described as the devil's playground
My rep established I'm rapping just for the sport of it
Been nice for a career, you just barely grasping the thought of it
Indebted to the hood like a Rush Card
Support her like push-up bras and lumbars
Except I'm never sitting, I'm ever-living like Mummm-Ra, I'm the sun god
Smart as a whip, but forever rippin it dumb-hard
I see you fronting with your dollar store shades on
Faker than abs that's sprayed, artificial as rayon
Run a set of fine you questify like ray don
Shung when I'm forming like voultron of young Raekwon
Mix in a bit of KRS-One and Q-tip
Rock him some of that ice cube, now who's this
No one as gifted as this, so magnificent
Classically consistent, I'm nasty as black licorice
Coldest, but I get the room hotter than bikram yoga
Seen the show, you know I make the people move like an eviction notice
I'm focused, I'm Moses when the mic is on
That's why these rappers scatter like roaches when the light is on

Hold it now, I hold it down
I'm staying where I'm at, you better go around
You know the voice and you know the sound
I rip the microphone and then I throw it down
Hold it now, I hold it down
I'm staying where I'm at, you better go around
You know the voice and you know the sound
I rip the microphone and then I throw it down

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): MICHAEL JACKSON, TALIB KWELI GREENE