Bodies all around, start checkin' for the substanceThe context is suspect, but I expectWhen searchlight hits the brakeHeadache, brake, fool with the cruiseThat strictly metropolitan PascoI'll let you go again, the pen emulatesWhat's heard from the four wheelsAnd baby face ain't never seen, it's case of whip appealSeal with the hits and blow, cause I got hits to goFist to flow, Michelin, Michelin, under the mistletoeI let my missile go, yo, hands get poundWhen it comes down to slick wineNo respect in the deuce, cool, I'm pickin' minesFurnished in New York, kiss that roadDiesel kiss for Vic like they was shootin' up an AIDS needleSo cling to your momMemories, calamities, a remedyTo recollect childhood, memory laneEnvision the picture, the frameThe beat that rumbles into the brainStains, grim gloom, every feelingUp a villain, cap peeling, slashing the unwillingBlastin' off, passin' off to the preventionLocked in detention, wielding fiendsYou don't start stretchin' to hit the hot spotThe storm hysterical, the groove that makes you thank GodFor miracles, pinnacle, the peak and then you findSurge, hittin' heads until the head hurtsMy grain, motherfuckin' my grainMy grain, motherfuckin' my grainMy grain, motherfuckin' my grainMy grain, motherfuckin' my grainMy grain, motherfuckin' my grainRhythm rough, it's designed for the kindThat the depth of dumb impliesSee here and say to wit thatAnd if you're not gonna hit thatLet me rip that rhythmHit the rhyme, we give emWe leave em and we'll ghost to the mostSo the concrete is secure to endure365 days of the unsureIs the way the crumb comes poppin'That's why these boots were made for stompin'Conference little to noneWhen the riddle is someone who is rightBut no beats gets paidThe answer is he gets sprayed by the kidsWho survived the playground of the steelWho used the fat and funky as a sort of shieldDeal to the crew that rolls in battalionIf water was slaughtered I'd have to order by the gallonPesticides kill the pestThe rest are out the back like sweatSo dump out the project, out the buildingOut your condo, out your crib, out your co-opAnd let me rip the hip hop againOh *, Skeph Anselm, he gets pups againLet out the grunt, let out the funkFrom out your trunk, feel the bassAnd let it pump, pump, pumpMigraine, motherfuckin' migraineI ain't got no DJBut that's alrightI ain't got no dancersBut that's alrightI ain't got no choirBut that's alrightAll I got left is the micSo strike up the van, manAs I command, manFloat up the damn, damnOn your way to flim-flamKnick-knack, quick-whackLaddie-whack, tip-a-dog a stickThen hop off my dialect quickTo the throat, I chokeI need a coke cause I got something in my throatBetter let no one get no one upGas, dear, on the throttleCatch a back of a forty bottleModels can't roll with a toolTill the parking beat upCrowd's around two kids in a four' seatA back attack punch from the boomTo give a brother room to breatheLeave, and pull a thought out the sleeveYou're free to roamAs the beat hits the head until it gets homeMigraine, motherfuckin' migraineMigraine, motherfuckin' migraineMigraine, teleshucing migraineMigraine, motherfuckin' migraineMigraine, motherfuckin' migraineMigraine,êthefuckin' migraineMigraine,usalemBlah long long waitMotherfucking migraine, migraine, migraine, motherfucking migraine