Featuring Mista Grimm (What goes up Must come down > Biz Markie ) [ VERSE 1 ] MC's you need deeper concentration Cause wack rhymes and crews lead to non profit organizations I attack like anxiety with the variety >From the western society baby Seeing is believing but looks can be deceiving You might think you're coming with it nigga but you're leaving With lyrics I'm conceiving Morning, afternoon and evening You can't wait My shit's special like a .38 (You got a problem?) I smoke some boo boo, now I'm spaced out like astrology Getting in MC's asses like proctology It's seems that everybody's going through a phase Thinkin they can bust, but they're weak like 7 days All 12 months for every ounce I get 12 blunts Get the munchies, eat up 12 MC's at once Thinkin that they wasn't, when they know that they was The one with the style young, they still got the peachfuzz (What goes up Must come down) (What goes up...) (MC's) (...must come down) [ VERSE 2 ] When I get stoned like Fred Flint I begin To smoke MC's like Marian, bury them Cause most be comin unnatural like a cesarean I wish my rhymes were meat and MC's were vegetarians Cause when it comes to biting, I don't condone it Besides, you couldn't manage my style if you owned it I got gruesome rhymes in my mind And they'll jump on a beat Infect it when the rhyme is injected Metaphors are connected Booty lyrics are deflected And the mic is intercepted Cause I never ever leave it neglected I'm tryina hold my position What kind of man would I be if my rhymes weren't in mint condidtion They say "(Hey) Grimm's nowhere to be found" But they catch me on camera beatin MC's down Always tryin to ponder what I'm pondering They need to find theyself, because they're somewhere lost and wandering (What goes up Must come down) (What goes up...) (MC's) (...must come down) [ VERSE 3 ] As we mix a little lyric and track Like coke and cognac Premium blend You're gonna need a driver, designated friend Cause I intend to seep in your system Hit hard, make MC's change agenda Disregard their rhymes, return to sender I got soul like Dr. Scholl eatin a bowl of neckbones I like my shit loud enough to where it blows your headphones If you hear any noise, it's just me and the boys makin hits Assassination other crews, posses, and clicks The main thing's to get down and say my peace Whoever disrespects, I'm Rushen like Patrice I'll never cease with the funky, funky vocals and beats Cause we need more rappers around flauntin new styles and speaks I know we're amped to get the money, cause we need it But if your lyrics ain't tight, the whole purpose is defeated You can't shine and be on top with the wack sound It's time to watch all the burnt out stars hit the ground