| Aight, aight, aight, aight |
| I’m aight if you aight |
| I be better — get some of that bass |
| aight, yeah |
| [Rinkin twinkin body shakin |
| Nuffattackin brain’s a rackin |
| Clock tockin Chuck shockin |
| Flavor Flav ain’t never shavin] |
| (one, two, three four) |
| Verse One: Chuck D |
| It’s another record, check it, mad methods |
| To put my brothers and sisters on a deathbed |
| You know he cheated, took what he wanted but now you blunted |
| Suckin up to the devil steppin down a level |
| It’s who they fear is you |
| Who protects us from us and you from you |
| Yes and it counts |
| I sued them bastards, yeah they got bounce |
| I did em like a demo |
| I took a 98 cause I never liked a limo |
| But pump pump pump pu-pump pump it up |
| A mad rhyme, for mad times, that’s what’s up |
| Some ain’t gonna change, I got em in a range |
| I gotta rearrange, so I’m buildin back your brain |
| Wreckin records with funky stuff |
| Am I loud enough? You got ta give it up |
| Chorus: Flavor Flav |
| Give it up, give it up, give it up yo |
| Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up |
| repeat #2 -- (occasional) Chuck D vocal |
| yeah |
| you gots ta give it up now |
| Verse Two: Chuck D |
| Come again with the same old bounce |
| I’m calling a foul and once again it counts |
| Mad tense mad tense brothers know |
| The blunts in the back got the black behind and that’s wack |
| Hey Jimmy cracked corn cracker singin «I don’t care», it’s on |
| I’m comin with a rhyme I’m lettin go a rhyme |
| I gotta get a rhyme through the rough and crazy times |
| Call me a Hannibal lecture, yes I checked her |
| They don’t hear me though, so here I go |
| I’m sick and tired so Sly’ll take ya higher |
| When I’m takin his sound to bring you down |
| Rappers rippin a lyrical kickin finger-lickin |
| But to the rhythm I’m givin but never cotton pickin |
| Like James Brown I’m sayin it loud |
| Am I loud enough? Huh, you got ta give it up |
| [Some ain’t gonna change, some ain’t gonna change |
| Some ain’t gonna never ever change |
| Some ain’t gonna change, some ain’t gonna change |
| Some ain’t gonna NEVER EVER change!] |
| Interlude: Chuck D, Flavor Flav |
| And when I’m coming, some young dumb and fulla cum |
| Some second guessing my lessons about saving young |
| Some don’t know like Run said so here we go |
| Where it is inside, whoop there it is |
| There it is |
| [There it is, damn right |
| My man X is a bad mother {shut your mouth) |
| I’m talking about Terminator, he’s the man] |
| There it is, can you hit me off with another one |
| I never did represent doing dumb shit |
| Some gangsta lying — I’d rather diss Presidents |
| Dead or alive, bring em and I’ll swing em |
| I vocalize, I just rap, I don’t sing em |
| Flick em, and I fling em, you can go with em |
| Hall of Fame for the game for the points I Dave Bing em |
| Go Grandmama, close but no cigar |
| I got mine, for I’m using my rhyme |
| The flow go wherever I want, and that’s clever |
| Give a piece of my time, to prevent some crime |
| And who behind puttin the guns to the young ones |
| The ones that make em is the ones that take em |
| Rugged for no reason, down in duck season |
| I don’t want my mama, on the street wearing armor |
| So check yaself before ya wreck yaself |
| Respect yaself, hah, you got ta give it up |
| Chorus (fades out) |