[Verse 1- Mike Shinoda]
The microphone molester, machete undresser
Stupid dope fresh type shit resurrector
Top Gun miramar Best-of-the-bester
The leave an Emcee peace-in-rester
The skill tester, the flex, the gunner
The make funner, the adversary make runner
Make summer cold with rhymes I spit
And kick gift to lifted delinquent wit
I be the prophet; my hands, top it, stop it
Fly like rocky when I rock it
Lock it down with this perverse verse
Every f**kin curse a burst of hurt
Move crowds, physical fitness rhymes
Cokeheads couldn't do my lines
I'm decorated like Christmas pines
My battalion rocks;
Emcees become silhouettes in shock
[Chorus- Mark Wakefield]
Reading my eyes will say it in many ways
Losing my pride will save it in many days
[Verse 2- Mike Shinoda]
Hit the dirt, 'cause the words I spit
Will do more than just rip your shirt
I'll bitch-slap your soul, contact the track control
You're coming at me and can't hack it though
So ridiculous, watching my crew get sick with this
Wickedness, pitchin this, lyrical viciousness
Of crews and cliques, made of men and mistresses
This is my life: the twilight and the fight night
And trying to see nothing but the highlights when I write
These eyes on horizons, die for my song, cry rhymes in Krylon
Fire on, move men telekinetically
Esoterically beat-speaking with clarity
Feel my verities, heroism of heresy
And sever every emcee I see with severity
[Chorus - Mark Wakefield]
Reading my eyes will say it in many ways
Losing my pride will save it in many days
[Bridge- Mark Wakefield]
Why not... what I came... Why not... what I came...
Why not give me what I came to deserve?
Why not give me what I came to believe?
Why not give me what I came to deserve?
Why not give me what I came to believe?
[Chorus- Mark Wakefield]
Reading my eyes will say it in many ways
Losing my pride will save it in many days
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