Mario Savio:
"There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
Makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part.
You can't even passively take part,
And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels,
Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus,
And you've got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go?
Talk a lot of game but yet you don't know
Static on the way / make us all say "whoa"
The people up top push the people down low
Get down
And I'm running it like that
The front of the attack is exactly where I'm at
Somewhere in between
The kick and the hi hat
The pen and the contract
The pitch and the contact
So get with the combat / I'm letting 'em know
There ain't shit you can say to make me back down, no
So / push the button let the whole thing blow
Spinning everything outta control
Everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
I'm on some taxidermy rap shit, talk about some raw game
You're nothing but a trophy mounted on my door frame
I spit that propane, light you with a slow flame
And watch you burn until there's nothin' but a gold chain
Yeah you'll be some crispy critters
You'll wish you with us
You'll wish what we did, you did it
You can't, you kiddin? I don't have a shoe you'll fit in
You're as soft as a motherfuckin' newborn kitten
I'm an animal, tearing flesh into bone
Randomly rippin' everything gone
Unless they forget what then let it be known
I'll bury every competitor, every predator
Anyone ever forget it, you'll regret it forever
Never been nothing short of a legend, you peasants will learn
I'll stay standin' in the front like I'm forgetting my turn
For these matchstick rappers, this is meeting adjourned
I ain't even gotta match them, I'm just letting them burn!
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure and fifty percent pain
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| Live Version - "When They Come For Me" Verse 1
|
Mario Savio:
"There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
Makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part.
You can't even passively take part,
And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels,
Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus,
And you've got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go?
Talk a lot of game but yet you don't know
Static on the way / make us all say "whoa"
The people up top push the people down low
Get down
And I'm running it like that
The front of the attack is exactly where I'm at
Somewhere in between
The kick and the hi hat
The pen and the contract
The pitch and the contact
So get with the combat / I'm letting 'em know
There ain't shit you can say to make me back down, no
So / push the button let the whole thing blow
Spinning everything outta control
Everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
I am not / a pattern to be followed
The pill that I'm on is a tough one to swallow
I'm not a criminal / not a role model
Not a born leader I'm a tough act to follow
I am not / the fortune and the fame
Or the same person telling you to forfeit the game
I came in the ring like a dog on a chain
And found out the underbelly's sicker than it seems
And it seems ugly / but it can get worse
'Cause even a blueprint is a gift and a curse
'Cause once you got a theory of how the thing works
Everybody wants the next thing to be just like the first
And I'm not a robot
I'm not a monkey
I will not dance even if the beat's funky
Opposite of lazy / far from a punk
Ya'll ought to stop talking start trying to catch up
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure and fifty percent pain
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| Live Version - "Hands Held High" Verse 1
|
Mario Savio:
"There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
Makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part.
You can't even passively take part,
And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels,
Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus,
And you've got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go?
Talk a lot of game but yet you don't know
Static on the way / make us all say "whoa"
The people up top push the people down low
Get down
And I'm running it like that
The front of the attack is exactly where I'm at
Somewhere in between
The kick and the hi hat
The pen and the contract
The pitch and the contact
So get with the combat / I'm letting 'em know
There ain't shit you can say to make me back down, no
So / push the button let the whole thing blow
Spinning everything outta control
Everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something
Lightweights step it aside when we come in
Feel it in your chest / The syllables get pumping
People on the street they panic and start running
Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming
I jump in my mind and summon the rhyme I'm dumping
Hearing the blind I promise to let the sun in
Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming
Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping
Fuck that / I wanna see some fists pumping
Risk something / Take back what's yours
Say something that you know they might attack you for
Cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for
Like this war's really just a different brand of war
Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor
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| Live Version - "Remember The Name" Hybrid Verse
|
Mario Savio:
"There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
Makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part.
You can't even passively take part,
And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels,
Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus,
And you've got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go?
Talk a lot of game but yet you don't know
Static on the way / make us all say "whoa"
The people up top push the people down low
Get down
And I'm running it like that
The front of the attack is exactly where I'm at
Somewhere in between
The kick and the hi hat
The pen and the contract
The pitch and the contact
So get with the combat / I'm letting 'em know
There ain't shit you can say to make me back down, no
So / push the button let the whole thing blow
Spinning everything outta control
Everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
Mike! - He doesn't need his name up in lights,
He just wants to be heard whether it's the beat or the mic,
He feels so unlike everybody else, alone,
In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him,
But fuck 'em, he knows the code,
It's not about the salary,
It's all about reality and makin' some noise,
Makin' the story, makin' sure his clique stays up,
That means when he puts it down y'all are pickin' it up
Forget Mike, nobody really knows how or why he works so hard,
It seems like he's never got time,
Because he writes every note and he writes every line,
And I've seen him at work when that light goes on in his mind,
It's like a design is written in his head every time,
Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme,
And those motherfuckers he runs with, they're still in their prime
Ridiculous, without even trying, how does he do it?!
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure and fifty percent pain
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| Live Version - "High Voltage"
|
Mario Savio:
"There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
Makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part.
You can't even passively take part,
And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels,
Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus,
And you've got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go?
Talk a lot of game but yet you don't know
Static on the way / make us all say "whoa"
The people up top push the people down low
Get down
And I'm running it like that
The front of the attack is exactly where I'm at
Somewhere in between
The kick and the hi hat
The pen and the contract
The pitch and the contact
So get with the combat / I'm letting 'em know
There ain't shit you can say to make me back down, no
So / push the button let the whole thing blow
Spinning everything outta control
Everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
I've been digging into crates ever since I was living in space
Before the ratrace, before monkeys had human traits
I mastered numerology and Big Bang theology
Performed lobotomies with telekinetic psychology
Invented the mic so I could start blessing it
Chin-checking kids to make my point like an impressionist
Many men have tried to shake us
But I twist mic cords to double-helixes
And show them what I'm made of
I buckle knees like leg-braces
Cast a spell of instrumentalness on all of you emcees who hate us
So you can try on, leave you without a shoulder to cry on
From now to infinity let icons be by-gones
I fire-bomb, ghostly notes haunt this
I tried threats but moved onto a promise
I stomp shit with or without an accomplice
And run the gauntlet with whoever that wants this
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure and fifty percent pain
Template:Hidden end
References
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