Quality Control

Hey yo my quality control, captivates your party patrol Your mind, body, and soul For whom the bell tolls, let the rhythm explode Big, bad, and bold B-boys of old Many styles we hold, let the story be told Whether platinum or gold, we use breath control So let the beat unfold, intro on drum roll We be the Lik like E, Tash, and J-Ro We harass niggas like we was the po-po We can rule the world without Kurtis and still Blow Finesse, from SP to Casio Your jams ain't def, you ain't fresh, you're so-so If you don't know us by now you'll never know You set that mood when we groove and prove a show The name of the game is survive and prove your flow You can't out take Jurassic syllable 'Cause it's survival of professional radio Stop and comprehend and heed the words of my pen Survival of professional poetical Highlanders (Soup, you plan on rocking something fierce?) Oh, am I Zaakir's the name, the A.K.A. super The verbal acupuncture from the dope old schooler I used to be the bubble for others that used to dumb on Now they be the lovers of brothers that can't front on Put me in the mix, LP 12-inch SP, the elegant, poetic pestilence I'm carbonated, the Fanti-confederated Highly commemorated, and the most celebrated For connecting it (Word!) Like verb subject to the predicate Plus I got the etiquette To keep it moving, and showing cats how it's done 'Cause it's the verbal combat, position number one We keep it beaming like a beacon, if it's clearance that you're seeking Whether black or Puerto Rican, people back us when we're speaking We got the kind of rhymes that get you ready for the weekend (To the mass amount of legions that came for party pleasing) Our temperature is freezing all kind of different regions The rhythm is the reason you're checking for what we've done Please son, our thesis, will rip your crew in pieces Your rhymes ain't right, homeboy, you ain't in season Hey yo my quality control, captivates your party patrol Your mind, body, and soul For whom the bell tolls, let the rhythm explode Big, bad, and bold B-boys of old Yo, yo, well it's the angelic man-relic clan repellent My plan parent manuscripts withstand bullets Flashing like a Japan tourist, we command pure hits While you cramming to understand these contraband lyrics My fam submits to pray, 5 times a day Climbing into your mind with live rhyme display J5 finds a way to remain supreme Coming verbally Hardison as if my name was Kadeem Hey yo my team Dreamworks without Spielberg or spill words Communicate from the Earth throughout the universe I transmit, transcripts, transcontinental lyrics Deeply rooted in your spirit Up, I love the power of words, nouns and verbs The pen and the sword, liquid stick on award No folklore or myths in my penmanship The Panther Scholar Warriors is what I present, uh Verbally decapitating those against a Jihad (foreign language) words make sense You gots to get up on your vocab, you gots to have vocab Letters makes words, and sentences makes paragraphs Yo, I make the pen capsize, the verbal with the planted eyes Planning knives ever pair that I utilize Spit juice, crack blood from your tooth Inflict truths, speak Allah's ninety-nine attributes You baby MC's drink Pedialyte My underground doesn't like you, the media might But we the defeat will change that As we bridge gaps in this lyrical grudge match, brothers we slug back Yeah, we bless tracks with the help of a raw rap Inprinted like poor tracks all over your brain rack My mental maneuver will clear and steer right through ya We Grand like Puba, understand that we move ya Hey yo, my rhythm reveal roller coaster real deal Revolutionize with active build I plant my dreams in the field and wait to harvest my skills For the starving MC, hungry trying to get a meal Hey yo my quality control, captivates your party patrol Your mind, body, and soul For whom the bell tolls, let the rhythm explode Big, bad, and bold be, boys of old