Fresh up out the mind of a mad man’s vision Comes a crew makin hits harder than car collisions It’s the Rakontyr clique, that’s if you don’t know the name While this beat is catchin’ fire, from these niggas throwin’ flames Masta Artisan The four winds are blowin to and fro, somethin’s brewin’ slow, Zephyrs peppered with specters of a typhoon in tow Just small gusts of wind, but then it ushers in A chaotic wall of sound which starts blusterin’, And this masterful manipulation of air Twists and pops to make everyone awake and aware Of a force that can’t be seen, but seems to have arisen From nothin’, blowin’ away the masses from the destruction Blak Neon Destruction as ugly as Rottweiler’s so when I say I pop collars, means my style is off the chain no shot callers These niggas is all a shame, but my plot follows a scheme that’s all insane The shit that got scholars in the Halls of Fame They call me god as if I’m Charlemagne, But I’m not all this, it’s the alcohol to blame That mauls the brain Cause boring shit is what you all remain The fact that you’re all the same, makes me holler “lame” So I brought skill to appall the game Fresh up out the mind of a mad man’s vision Comes a crew makin hits harder than car collisions It’s the-- Ayo, I wasn’t fuckin done yet! So anyways, I’m bumpin something unchecked That’s a sudden upset To the status quo, takin roughened blunt steps To shine like the Aurora Borealis glow Or like a fuckin’ sunset, but it didn’t fit with the vocalic show Which gets viciously viscous when he dishes these thick hits That run flows like rivers and your ears are like fishes… Okay, now I’m done… Andre: Yo, forget what ya heard, it’s time for the main event You was in they top five, I arrived, and away ya went Handle my business, and still remain a gent And receive props without giving away a cent I know these rappers mad, I’m leavin’ all of ya pissed But you’re askin for it, beggin like Oliver Twist They wanted somethin’ new, and you could not deliver Meanwhile, new styles is what I got to give ya You wanna prove you’re hard, talkin’ this or that And puttin’ hands all on people like twister mat Well go ahead then, choose the path ya like, But as for me, dude, I’d rather grab a mic Skip the legal fees, and the bad kharma And get them bodies movin’ like a snake charmer Then I collect the dough I made from rippin’ this this loose leaf And skkkrt off like the groupie trynna seduce me Plus it’s a waste to skill, goin’ after y’all Might as well catch a rattata with a master ball If they need wack shit, they’ll give ya ass a call But until then, bounce like a basketball And make way For the squad of the century Killed this shit in four lines, the rest were complimentary This flow’s nasty, a saturation of the rhymes Which is known as the collaboration of the times

Andre: My soul is dirty like the bottom of an old sneaker So I know I could never be a leader With the feet of a thousand men behind me My sins were slimy and my past always come back to remind me Why these actions to be a better man are irrelevant Cause if you were ever been someone who once lacked intelligence They’ll greet ya with a shoulder colder than Antarctica Unwelcomed like showin up in Israel rockin’ a Swastika Masta: Each day of remission is on the edge of a precipice Hopin to grab the rope that’ll lead to his exodus But it’s a high jump, and if things go wrong, an even longer fall And the foundation doesn’t seem too strong at all In fact sometimes it feels no stronger than sand And it’s like, the higher he jumps, the harder he lands However, the ground below is somethin’ he don’t plan to see So he keeps his head up for the sake of his sanity Johnny: We’re so close I can touch, a future I see in your eyes But I’ve been beat down so much, for a past that I despise I didn’t want you to know how fucked up I really am But if you want me to go, I’ll completely understand

“FUCK THE HOOD” (4x) Andre: Fuck the hood in general, lemme get critical Just for a second, America, I grew up in the poor section Of your mess and with no direction, it was depressin’ I saw roaches, hunger, self-hate, and broken homes And too many young men dead from smokin’ chrome And I was told this was supposed to be fabulous But that shit don’t add up when you see just how bad it gets And I HATE that all of this is synonymous with black Don’t give a FUCK about nostalgia, I’m NEVER goin’ back FUCK THE HOOD, and all the foul shit it represents FUCK THE HOOD, ‘cause all the progress that it prevents “FUCK THE HOOD” Yeah, it’s a place that’s still close to me but FUCK THE HOOD, cause it ain’t where we’re supposed to be Masta: You think people end up in the ghetto unfortunately And My people happen to be there disproportionally Truth is, in addition to racist motherfuckers It’s the fault of turnin a blind eye to those who suffer The ones who stood by and did nothing while they were signing Racist shit from Black Codes to today with redlining Oh yeah, look up that bit of niceness For those who think we stayed in the hood of our own devices What, you think when Civil Rights just repealed some racist policies They said, “oops, our bad, right this way to equality!” But since we’ve grown up with poverty as the rule We try to cope by telling ourselves this shit is cool, But, naw… Johnny: Such potential unrealized… So many of our dreams denied… All my people tryin’ to survive You’ve got power please don’t idly stand by Blak: The shit is like a haunted house, I’m the voice in the back tellin’ you to get the fuck out

Johnny: Start inhaling and exhaling, then you’re sailing everyday/ (Masta: giving you the type of release you desire) Keep it burning while it’s turning your feelings from blue to grey / (out of the frying pan, into the fire) (Johnny and Blak) Smoke it up, now toke it toke it, smoke it up, now toke it toke it/ Blak: Though good conscious, it does haunt us it’s okay, cause what we want is Let it come for you, it’s comforting to a hypnotic measure/ (Some) side affects, but please don’t let that keep you from this toxic treasure/ Smoke it up, now toke it toke it, smoke it up, now toke it toke it/ Though good conscious, it does haunt us it’s okay cause, one more time I said, Smoke it up, now toke it toke it, smoke it up, now toke it toke it/ Though good conscious, it does haunt us, it’s okay ‘cause what we want is… You think peer pressure would be obvious Like, the atmosphere be all ominous But it’s not, it’s really subtle Because your friends aren’t evil people lookin’ for trouble It’s Just an offhand question, “Hey you wanna hit?” And you admit, you’ve been a bit curious And you don’t wanna rock the boat, so it’s useless But everyone should know the risk, so there are no excuses For anyone else to fall for this affliction But they think they’re the ones who won’t get an addiction And it’s true, some don’t, but a lot do And it hurts when it happens to someone you’re close to And then I hear some say, “we’re all dying someday” True, but why do you want to pay For the cancer you’ve just agreed to tolerate Plus, the thousands of dollars for doctors to operate “smoking relieves stress,” yeah, that’s a lie to me AND it’s the perfect example of irony AND it’s the perfect example of a situation that sacrifices the long term for instant gratification Look: if you haven’t smoked, I beg you, don’t start This ain’t to control you, this is from the heart And the younger you are, the sooner you need to hear this, kid: the younger you start, the harder it is to quit I wouldn’t lie to ya, it’s all love Look it up, at CDC.gov So pass on it, it’s not that rewarding of a thrill For the price of rehab and hospital bills, for real No tactics, no tactics, it’s just real

Johnny: What do you say to somebody you see Who’s dissin you cause they got insecurities You say, “howdy howdy howdy howdy Hater hater hater hater" Andre: Pullin up in my mercedes and I’m getting’ all the ladies/ But we dealin’ with them haters cause they girls wanna date us/ And they know that I’m the greatest, so they’re checkin’ out my gators/ Cuz they know I keep it movin’ so I’m never on hiatus/ My pimpin is so heinus I walk up to girls like “hey miss”/ You need to get with me, cuz we them rap entertainers And sometimes I don’t even have to bother… sayinthis Cause the money speaks for itself, that’s why I’ve got some many haters Blak: Got my first paycheck, so I’m gonna spend it right/ With so many ice on my hands, I almost got frost bite/ And they know that, Cuz’ I’m all about that money/ I’m so fly, I’m about to rhyme the word “money” with the word “money”/ buckets of cash and chilled Alize/ Ain’t related to the verse, but they sound cool to say/ Scissor doors on the ghini, so watch that Lam chop/ Buy my album so I can afford what I’m talkin’ about!/ Masta: Now as for me, I’ve always evaded the suckers Who determine their self-worth on the hatred of others Cause how you gonna say hate’s the basis for ya energy So every location you play in’s filled with your enemies? Naw, Cause if no one wanted to see ya prosper Who would be throwin down money to be at your concert So check it, focus on that love instead And get that negative shit outta ya fuckin’ head

(Johnny Magma) I gotta know Where’s your money, give me money If you ain’t go no money, you can’t do nothin’ for me I’m talkin’ bout (Andre Arson) All my life I’ve been broke, with no way to fix it Wishin that I would have been born a rich kid They’re like gods on Earth, everyone’s under them And for all I’m worth, I wanna be one of them Check it, I could go anywhere, run amok, and be wild Cause Daddy’s bank account is always on speed dial Meanwhile, complaints of being lazy or irresponsible Are no obstacle, cause homelessness is impossible And it’s getting on my nerves, cause all I’ve ever heard Is “Whatever you get is exactly what you deserve” And by the proof I’m seein’, then the answer’s yes That they’re worth more, and I’m worth less (Blak Neon) M.O.N.E.Y., money, makes other niggas envy you, that’s what it do M.O.N.E.Y., money, makes other niggas envy you, that’s what it do Where’s your money, give me money If you ain’t got no money, you can’t do nothin’ for me I’m talkin’ bout (Blak Neon) When his plan of bein’ a singer fails He gets stuck in a fuckin’ apartment just barely makin a little scratch like fingernails But he wants to feel a pale imitation of if his dream prevailed Bets it all on a credit card that he bought, sink or sail Is none of his concern, burns it on a vacation to the Caymans Layin in first class that ass was havin’ a celebration It goes down like somethin’ out a movie: floozies, Jacuzzis Fast cars with two seats, steak tender and juicy So them debtors better hurry fast, And whoever’s trynna find him should bring a coffin with their surly ass Cause you’ll find him on Brac rockin’ luxurious seams Two slit wrists slipping out of his American dream M.O.N.E.Y., money, makes other niggas envy you, that’s what it do M.O.N.E.Y., money, makes other niggas envy you, that’s what it do Where’s your money, give me money If you ain’t got no money, you can’t do nothin’ for me I’m talkin’ bout Where’s your money, give me money They wanted to find him, but he was way out of reach I’m talkin’ bout somewhere sunny, not lookin’ bummy But when they arrived, they found him dead on the beach