| Yeah, Apathetic, Esoteric, Demigodz baby
|
| Molemen with His-Panik
|
| Yo, Yo, Yo
|
| I throw the mic at your breastbone; |
| leave your whole chest blown
|
| Ap’s puttin' tired old rappers in rest homes
|
| As far as battlin', I’m probably the best known
|
| To leave you on the operatin' table gettin' flesh sewn
|
| You wanna throw fists? |
| Then we can get it on
|
| ‘Cause me and you wack emcees will never get along
|
| Sometimes I hates for makin' that song
|
| ‘Cause now even fat girls think they’re sexy in a thong
|
| What the fuck went wrong? |
| There’s a whole mess a crews
|
| And I’mma kick your fuckin' ass like Bow-Legged Lou
|
| Your whole claim to fame is ridin' my dick
|
| Like your name was Dana Dane and my name Slick Rick
|
| And yo I only stick chicks if the bitches are thick
|
| The sickest to spit, my whole clique’s vicious as shit
|
| And the reason why my crew will never pass the mic
|
| It’s ‘Cause it’s see-though like ice in a glass a Sprite
|
| Yeah, Ap is tight
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Representin' like what… Demigodz
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Demigodz… representin' like what
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Representin' like what
|
| It’s the pterodactyl swoopin' in on this track
|
| And yo it’s like that, we strike bat like spinal taps
|
| Cats prime up wax for five attacks up on vinyl racks
|
| The finest cats don’t accept my rhyme attacks
|
| Now when I’m at bat, I spit raw with intuition
|
| We rock spots like a skin condition
|
| I’m in position while you in submission
|
| My rap broke the backs of cats with golden plaques
|
| Now onto openin' acts; |
| my flow attacks
|
| Smacks through soft tracks and
|
| Sent ‘em back, with their bags packed into shrink wrap
|
| Is Esoteric nice? |
| When it comes to open mics
|
| I’ll blow your whole device then be ghost like Poltergiest
|
| But when it comes to life, yo I takes my own advice
|
| ‘Cause fake guys role snake eyes like loaded dice
|
| Ya clique a’int straight, I can tell from the gate
|
| You a dead giveaway like a slain rapper’s demo tape
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Representin' like what
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Demigodz
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Representin' like what
|
| I got a dark desire to spark the fire
|
| Swing bats at cats like I’m raps Mark McGwire
|
| Our names headlinin' the flier ‘til we retire
|
| Fuckin' bitches flyer than Mia, Mariah, and Tyra
|
| We don’t know our own strength, so just horsin' around
|
| I could be forcin' you down, or put your corpse in the ground
|
| Tryin' to find blazin' raps, but most ya lame tracks
|
| Is like tryin' to find a fuckin' needle inside a haystack
|
| Yo my rhyme style’s doper than prescription drugs
|
| Mixed in chemical tubs by thugs with orange gloves
|
| Plus its doper than that shit that’s gettin' slipped in clubs
|
| Once it gets within' their blood, It’ll make woman bug
|
| While you always screamin' peace, we’ll leave ya crews deceased
|
| Plus our new release spins wax back like Judas Priest
|
| If Ap says you wack it ain’t far from the truth
|
| And if Eso’s spittin' vocals stay far from the booth
|
| Yo when we combine with Panik, rappers try to ban it
|
| At first they knew the deal now they can’t understand it
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot
|
| Representin' like what
|
| You can try but you’ll never ever be this hot |