'94 Via Satellite

(album: No Man's Land - 1990)

Yeah
Yeah, y'all niggas don't know nothin about this
What that nigga say? Enrich Oakland funk
Hah, gonna take that shit serious

Man fuck an MC
I got a tip that's fat and lengthy like a 40 pistol
For your missus, baby she'll do me 'fore you miss this
Sporty shit whips your man senseless
Them obese hits, with thick wrists, so spin them ten bits
And come up, like these sucker punks won't even run up
And speak, we the reason that your shit is called weak
And y'all our liveliehood, as long as it's understood
The crew be rippin this, and you be strippin this
Like it was hubs, why? Because we cuttin them dubs
So fuckin fat, that you gotta bite that, we got it like that
I'm not no type actor hoopster singer or nuttin
We'll hook the track up, and I'll become the, decisive factor
Yeah!... Y'all niggas can't dream to think about this shit
You can bite it
But by that time it'll be too late cause it's already been recited
Come rip this shit

Ha ha ha ha!
I try not to be, too tempermental
Everything I do yes it's true it's meant for mental renovation
With innovation laced it, embalmin fluid
Flew it through your speaker do it make you want to seek your soul
Like Nat King Cole, my shit is gold
I hold a pole of polarity, like a wand and fondle phrases
Ages, before you ever heard a lion roar
My minions were preparing for my birth to unearth the black core
The pearl of persistance to keep your interest
Keep evildoers outside with fences
I make my rhymes audible and portable and sort it for
The burst of energy cause it's affordable of course
There's more to throw, to the sharks, and modify the marks
Perhaps I use a parable of Rosa Parks, on the front of the bus
I don't discuss coming less than us
Dirty devils never ques-tion us!

Yeah, Hieroglyphics in the house, Souls of Mischief
Yeah check it out

It's the grill buster, the ill Plus-ter
My skills must abominate, niggas who ain't rhymin great I debate
The situation's critical; the shit you say is pitiful
Your skill tank is empty and my shit is full
Went to school unleaded
No one in this world ever said it
Get beheaded by the crew dreaded, MC dicer, I'sa
Little bit wiser, but yo my shit is nicer
The ill price you pay is this, I slice MC's with my greatest hits
We take no shit in rap, that's it, you wack
So get your ass on, nigga bomb
Be in the cut 'fore I get my blast on
Nigga earl's how you're comin at me, so I'mma brandish MC's
Until they vanish with ease, causin damage with these
Yeah!

Souls of Mischief in the house
Hieroglyphics, Opio come rip this shit for the crew

Yeah, one two one two
Who me? Yeah see I'm only out for one thing
Domination, encasin MC's chasing they dreams
Evaded and slipped clean through the system
Mauled shaken-up and touchy cause we dissed em
Bitch you need to listen to this one
The tension thickens, your heart rate quickens
Damn near beatin out your chest, ya can't predict what's next
I bet conviction is stressful, MC's that bite they wrestle
With the mic, all night, hopin to recite
Excite, captivate the crowd, make my momma proud, now
And forever will I drain, Souls of Mischief supreme
The crown tipped, to the side, you don't wanna collide
A landslide victory for the team they all died
Nigga, yeah, it's like that and-uh, it's like that and-uh
It's like that and-uh

A Hieroglyphics yeah
Clearly distinguished from these incompetent niggas
Playin possum with the mic, suckin peanuts
Tryin to be Phes, freak it with a twist
But missed, by a long shot, I hope they all flop
I manipulate the mic as a concussive force
No remorse for, preluckin MC's
I couldn't be cut with, the keenest of blades
Holstering the limits of pressing in it, projecting my image
Like a hologram, reanimatin MC's
Shamrock deceased, base Phes jus dissipated the rest
A waiting antihistamine is distressed and jaded
Phes escalated as the mack of all trades

Yeah, uh-huh
Souls of Mischief, Hieroglyphics, throw your hands in the air c'mon!
Yeah, you know we don't stop
Oakland California, hah

Lettin niggas know!