Lyrics: Back with the rhythm of boom bap I rips that spit tracks flipping the style to reach the riff raft straight truth in the booth go on and get that get pap, market that package it in shrink wrap I'm the Jordan of rap, you on Lebron status yeah you dope, but you never be the greatest give it a go homey you aint ever catching kobe ya'll don't know me but you should, I'm a remedy that slowly Spit darts and pierce hearts for only One God, and one truth, no phonies I goes hard when I'm bending these bars that's been holding ya'll captive, reach for the stars And if you miss you still landing on the moon make room, I get's shine reflecting what He do Daps and pounds to my people who been down since day one, I'm still Change, message from the son All comments welcome!

Lyrics: Run tell dat, the fat mans back lost a hundred pounds to pack skill where the fat went and I ain't have to run a milli tryin to sell that change the diet up, eating emcees that spit wack they less phat, can't pack what ya mans do and I don't tote straps spitting fisticuffs in haiku wee ooh... or maybe I mean ooh wee half ya'll lames racking half ya brains if you heard a me it's 3rd degree and I aint talking like I'm Dylan I'm sick of hip hop full of hipsters wearing nylons It's napalm... smell it in the morning You ain't gotta love it but I'm sending up a warning The emcee you once knew, Is dead now... because of you I couldn't leave the game without a Change (what ya'll wanna do?) Slept on (feel me), a pea under the mattress ignore me all you want but I'm irritating you actors Live and Direct inflect to catch wreck with a mic and pen slain men to earn spect Beast on this mic, you can feel it when it rumble Better check ya character it's not about ya logo Still I run dolo, not in it for self reflect all you want you can't reach me off the shelf Do it for the love, and coming home with the medal it's funny watching all of ya'll lames back peddle... Hook: Back again, still with a mic and pen should've never left cuz look at the state it's in Skinny jeans and hipsters it's best ya start running Run tell dat, a new Change is coming Never have I seen a sicker state than what the game is in I'm looking at ya thinking which of ya'll let the lames in So let's begin, armed with a pad and pen and I don't need a sword my pen bleeds when I'm pressing it I'm stressing it, ya'll lyrically irrelevant My style got concubines while ya'll monks stay celibate I'm branding it, like cattle on a thousand hills an heir to the throne so I don't chase ya little dollar bills funny still, almost famous cuz you spit heat but you collecting checks off the state, cuz you's a deadbeat Respect the grind, but never respect a man living off of welfare chasing dreams like a stan Bump that, ya'll people can feel that stand back cuz I'm swinging off this track with a spike bat And get ready for the tracks I'm manhandling stylwyld two thousand twelve, I'm panhandling