Head Rush (more Base)

Yo... before the Greeks and the creeks..

It's an old Pete Rock classic, nigga, yo

Before the Greeks and the creeks, before you can stand

Before your hands and your feet, from a band or a beat

We would stand on the street, with our hands on our heat

Twelve grams, twelve feet away, balled up in a sheet

Of Reynold's wrap, one smack, leave's your dentals back

Your voice get quiet like the voice in the instrumental track

Slick from the lip lisp, son, sip the citrus

My voice unfolds, with the soul of The Whispers

On the block, we rock loud like The Pistols

Up in the crib, my wiz drinkin' a Harvey's Bristol

Natural flavor, yours be artificial

I blow holes in skin, like big nose through snotty tissue

They go berserk, when the dollar dollar bill is on

The thrill is gone... upgrade to the silicone

That's birth of four billion, eight hundred milli-on

It's not official until I smack the W, silly on

From the valleys of Ohio, to the sounds of Cairo

Still hit, like the whirlwind kick of Ryu

Zig-Zag-Zig Allah, still puzzled like the jigsaw

You renig', you get jinxed, pa, Pete Rock exclusive..

We boat guard the road, like trucks on the turnpike

Smoke by the load, just to see what it burns like

Architectural design, intellectual rhyme

Official stripe, movin' on a diagonal line

With thugs trapped, scholars they want the books back

The piece, they turn us off, the moment they look back

The castling position, made weak by a wind calm

Knights lose armor from the pressure, we bring on

And fire all these shots in the rhymes with mad flames

Kept the cramp game, and he posted on bad squares

The king's the kick, the queen's the snare

The bass are minor pieces that move in a pair

Quick to break through, an un-parallel opponent

I do it on the regular, at any given moment

Check the venue, those to make the saga continue

Before you check the credits, the swords is all in you

It's real... it's real... it's real... it's real...