I Gotta (Get Down)

I take rap to the pinnacle with my cynical interview
 Forensics magnify the rhymes, none are identical
 To the track when it go boom boom bap
 Bring the Indian rain rap
 You'll honor the last left, brain rhymer
 My presence on the mic is water on the rocks in a sauna
 An uninhabited world of greenery
 And plus my psychic ability enables me to see
 That you're not what you seem to be
 When I drop one watch one land where your man's standin'
 Might just ram my hand with your teeth
 But I'm righteous carnivorous
 I give you a spot to start at
 Your niggas be like, "You saw that?!"
 Subconscious brain pain, call it a nightmare
 Now that I got you seein' the light, STARE
 Yeah, it's aimin' dead into your retina
 Not to threaten' ya but just let me KNOW
 Shoot the shot ya got
 When every nigga rock the spot
 I got... to get down (boogie)
 So many fables from labels it's hard to stay stable
 But a nigga stay up like seat backs or trey tables
 At any lecture that I speak at
 I'm pitifully ridiculin' weak cats
 For being ridiculous with the shit ya bust
 I can tell ya sniffin' dust, tryin' to riff with us
 Nigga, I bust rhymes like pomegranates
 Fuck around and run the planet
 Make the underhanded want to panic
 I'm the fliest on papyrus
 Look deep into my iris and try to deny US
 It's religion that I rip the rhythm
 Got all fans wavin' they hands like hypnotism
 And the weightless hate this
 When I fuck around and start rippin' off the top like a rapist
 While you stand by the mic on the wait list (I'm next man, I'm next)
 Shoot the shot ya got
 When every nigga rock the spot
 I got... to get down (boogie)
 When it gets hectic a dope fiend will use a Coca Cola can for a smokin' utensil
 Like I wrote this rap, with a broken pencil
 I smokes like a freight train
 One man with eight brains
 Punch will make a sadomasochist hate pain
 Wait till I master this
 Like Plato and? The Audorius?
 It's likely we fuck with your psyche
 Developin' mental mic maneuvers to make these marks like me
 I be a wonder with words
 Keep my styles inventive, spinnin' at 33 and 1/3
 The heard of me in the flats, heard of me in the burbs
 Studied my etiquette, lyrics embedded in tracks
 Peep the predicate you better get back
 My format with raps stay ahead of the wack
 It's like you're lost in the Sudan, caught in a sand trap
 And palmin' Anthrax, tell your man, "Stand back"
 Or I'll apply the pressure by hand man
 They can't stand that
 My shit EXPLODE, where ever it land at
 A nigga got his own sack
 Wack vulture, hover where the microphone at
 Shoot the shot ya got
 When every nigga rock the spot
 I got... to get down (boogie)