| Ain’t been to church since back in the day | 
| Used to go to church back in the day | 
| Smacked and i’d pray, now I just laugh in dismay | 
| The earth is fucked, the city is gone | 
| Is it worth for Wiki the Don? | 
| Sickly upon, grittier songs | 
| Its the P-R-O-T-E-I-N, important portent of the past when I pen | 
| Native nectar with the rats in the pen | 
| Tokyo triggers, sans, gats and Benz, what | 
| Teenage roughs ain’t got nut | 
| Nuthin' but a dream on the corner, brusk | 
| That ain’t gonna start stuff | 
| A wave for the peeps and pretty girls who adore us | 
| Came to award mutts, licks and kisses, no cuffin' to the tours up | 
| Which brings me to the Chant I cry thru my corpus for the gorgeous | 
| Protein hold me, against my will | 
| I will get my time to kill, If I don’t get my thrill | 
| My will’s to write a verse thats ill enough to get you filled | 
| Keep you strong, make sure you keep keeping on | 
| Protein hold me, against my will | 
| I will get my time to kill, If I don’t get my thrill | 
| My will’s to write a verse thats ill enough to get you filled | 
| Keep you strong, make sure you keep keeping on | 
| What was life like, between this meal and last | 
| What’d you see, where it take you | 
| If lights were dimmed, would skies be any clearer | 
| Addle lines from adamize, peach war your mental valet | 
| Up to you to pluck your protein | 
| Rowdy kids cheatin' on the sun rise | 
| Borken paddle for a joyride | 
| Hop on a good foot, do the damn thing | 
| Slackin' on your city slang | 
| Teach ya' what ya' teacher did’t taught ya | 
| Didn’t learn to write in school | 
| This ain’t 90's revival, its earlier, its tribal revival | 
| Before you learned from a Bible, you learn from your rivals | 
| Whose urgence was liable, to merk em' and leave em' in piles | 
| Before I get to earn that chieftain as my title | 
| For my mutt fucked up people to admire, I sigh at the reply of your sire | 
| I am you people, your equal, your writer | 
| I am a simple pied pipe, I write what it is you desire | 
| Maybe if I-ya… I-ya, use a metaphor to describe the | 
| City’s my cell, mayors my warden, I’m a lifer | 
| Protein hold me, against my will | 
| I will get my time to kill, If I don’t get my thrill | 
| My will’s to write a verse thats ill enough to get you filled | 
| Keep you strong, make sure you keep keeping on | 
| While you shit in a toilet, I spit it is boiling | 
| Eyes wide open, I’m floating, my shit’s buoyant | 
| You blinking and sinking when anointed with the ointment | 
| The ointment is my spit, I coined it a poison, or a cure if enjoying | 
| These word that been toiling | 
| In my head trying to get poignant as possible out my skull | 
| Avoiding the obstacles that unfold, and is it plausible I have a soul | 
| If i drag my feet for weeks, 'til I don’t have soles |