J U R A S S I C F I V EHe who is without sin cast the first stoneBlast the verse, no matter the class, I'm vers'tileKickin' it for you hipocritic berzerk ohms, I'm hopin' at worstHopin' the words that touch home and clutch domesYa' think, electrical sockets and wet feetHow you infinitely get sleep the minute we get deepLadies and 'gents peep one hundred percent heatUp undersea mistreats, now I'll leave you mince meatYes, I'm from unityMy last name sits in the middle of opportunity(Huh)With two-laid plans and new-made fansMy crew raid lands and punch like the Kool-Aid ManIt was a long road to gloryBattle for territoryJust to be called the masters of the ceremonyMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bombMetabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' onIt was a long road to gloryBattle for territoryJust to be called the masters of the ceremonyMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bombMetabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' onThe epitomy, five-hundred thousand so convincinglyStreet ministry, J-5th-a-tune infantryFinna be, about to beThe best kept commodity, twelve incher LPWe're representin' properlyNow possibly the knock could beThat old school philosophyThat if it doesn't rock a beatIt's not considered propertyRemember me, remember usIce Cold, Cold Crush, 1920 Gold RushRollin' up, hold upNow ain't no need for you to be surprisedWhen we implement and improviseWith each and every verse that IGet busy with, lacing it with murder talkTurn a 'sault, Tom-A-HawkRazor sharp, tribal walkFresh gear, we're makin' our bedsAnd we're doin' lots of thingsThat we never didWe went to Paris in the spring-timeBahamas in the fallWe thank Alla, we're doin' it allIt was a long road to gloryBattle for territoryJust to be called the masters of the ceremonyMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bombMetabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' onPick a paragraph and phrase it, mentally you save itKick it to the world and suddenly they crave itThat's the way it is, in this verbal warfare workin' hard for the loveBut there ain't no wars hereYears been puttin' on a play with your foot in'Cuz you'll be comin' back like the brother Dwight GoodenSeven's back again, slappin' men and askin' themIf they really wanna fuck wit' the style we tappin' inHey yo, I just couldn't wait to grab a piece of my own cakeSo I can elevate and hold my own weightMy mind state be the ghetto, street corner heavy metalBlack like the pot and tea kettleMy street credibility, minus negativityMultiplied energy, what attends a fewAbility sililoque of a real MCTastin' the grammar, J5 slamma jammaIt was a long road to gloryBattle for territoryJust to be called the masters of the ceremonyMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bombMetabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' on(Oh, here we go)Metabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' onMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bomb(Oh, here we go)Metabolism with the rhythmKeep it goin' onMarathon, DecathalonWord-play, Mega-bomb