*ahem* Jo... [Refrain 1] I'm a writer, homie, brother, son. I'm a drinker, smoker, sucker, bum. I'm a runner, peacenik, honky, student. I am dreamy, grounded, open-armed ruthless. [Verse] Heart, lungs, thoughts, divided. Jeans, scars, clipped iris. Bettin' on a blank CD. Learning, thoughtful, prideful, preemie. Yeah... This is the middle of the maze without Illuminati symbolism in the phrase. I'm emo. I just trick 'em with a fade and this silver lining I got chiseled in my face. (Slash) This is the blanket I wrap around. Grittin', ad-libbin' these rapper sounds. Grinnin's for chickens, I hit 'em with pivots; no two-handed dribble to back 'em down. Diggin' you divots I built with the lyrics, yo. Adam's wild. Mission is simple: cripple the tempo, blitz through your temple, snatch ya crown. Who's askin' now? (Slash) Adam is an artifact. Def dug him up, started spittin' 'til his parts attached. Jeans draggin', false flaggin', flashy as a Mars attack. I'm just tryna make stadium shows out a parlor act. (Slash) All my identification is minimum wages and this dated food. Spendin' my digits on spittin' with all of these bills and my papers due. A fuck isn't given. I'm dealin' with livin' in ancient shoes, so I'm addicted to strain and missin' a vein. Fuck just killin' the game for you. (Slash) I'm as raw as real gets. Damn near grown, and my mama's still stressed, and I wanna shoulder fam, and I wanna heal debts, but I'd be better off making walls of steel stretch. (Slashed) budgets (slashed) love (slashed) cataract me. Bass-in-Cadillac dreams. Mace-and-battle-axe steez. Can I travel back please? Def and Adam had seams. Everything about me but these patterns lacked schemes. These are all different patches of the quilt. I am not broken but my battered back wilts. I'm walking into minefields ass-first. Stitched as one behind smooth skin: that's how a mask works. (Slash) I told 'em I wouldn't be emo but fuck it: I ain't a robot. This booth is a factory, but Adam don't work with his bolts locked. Forget when I'm leaving and catching my breathing my seed at the plant of this daydream. I was letting it grow through the wettest of colds ever since I was eighteen. While I was clubbin', slummin', drunken...exhale. My chin above the current whenever the net failed. Bad frames that made a great scene, but every single one of those selves was just the same me. [Refrain 2] I'm a writer-slash-homie-slash-brother-slash-son. I'm a drinker-slash-smoker-slash-sucker-slash-bum. I'm a runner-slash-peacenik-slash-honky-slash-student. I am dreamy-slash-grounded-slash-open-armed ruthless. Heart-slash-lungs-thoughts-slash-divided. Jeans-slash-scars-slash-clipped-slash-iris. Bettin'-slash-on a-slash-blank-slash-CD. Learning-slash-thoughtful-slash-prideful-slash-preemie. [Refrain 1]

[Verse 1: Korim] Aiight...look...yo... Tryna dig a little deeper when I'm spittin' like I'm excavatin' while I'm elevatin': contradiction. Kinda hit that leave you limpin'. Impact is that fat. Kinda gordo. More so than your flow. I'm on that poor folk, rickety-front-porch-and-screen-do'. I don't know what they front fo'. They seem broke. Can you see the story and the realness written in it? I ain't in a hurry but the mission movin' quick and sprintin'. Ain't no finish line, either. Out here dinner-time-eatin'. Killer lines. Reaper on the creep. Takin' souls 'fore I leave. Tell 'em I don't need a whole lotta things, just gimme more money please. Punchlines, crunch time, grind. Funny cheese, dummies need not get they tongues runnin'. Please stop. It ain't nothin', boy, buzz, and bee chopped. Bring it back...Pete Rock. Lemme let my beat drop. Heard what I said. Let the Earth rock, hurtin' ya head. [Hook: Defcee and Korim (x2)] What you on, bruh? Dope or dog shhhhh... From a kennel full of spitters and they all pits. Kickin' bars, rip 'em all 'til they call quits. Get a boss, trick, cuz you ain't on this. [Verse 2: Defcee] Jo! (What?) I hear 'em sayin' I'm too old, so I leave all the hate I been rakin' in twofold. Years back, woulda been prayers for dudes' souls but I'm too busy makin' and breakin' these new molds. Roll tents up, runnin' past y'all camps. Mad at the moves? Then battle my passport stamps. This is the lesson I bless 'em with: math all there. Addin' Adam to tracks is havin' half y'all scared, so let's get it crackin' like bad leather. Any attacker? I done waxed 'em. They tan better. You ain't seein' names attached to the tag, heffer. Anonymous swag: bodybagged. Don't rap ever. The language that you overspeakin' isn't the same, pop. You tryin' on reachin' my range, stop. This is cleaver versus sweetener, so come get your cane chopped. Now THAT'S how you spittin' this ether without a namedrop [Hook: Defcee and Korim (x2)] [Verse 3: Defcee] I put the “Jew” in jewel, damn it. Bars reach and sweep craters on new planets Nude tapes of news anchors: I do damage. Y’all keep bringing your razors to nuke landings. These dudes cannons don’t shoot: the flash off. Day spas and facials: all they masks soft. So I sidestep ‘em while I earn my numbers cuz I never play fair like a turnstyle jumper. Hurricane slang; tornado talkin’. Born in a storm. Don’t swarm where I’m walkin’. Typhoon in step. Swagger of a tidal wave. Rappin’ is a title game. Adam got a Michael J. Yeah, this is too smart. What I spit? FUBAR. Monkey punch: ape real. Sorry if I fool y’all. Rhymes up, and they smellin’ fresher than a new car; y’all can barely keep the Pistons runnin’ like you Dumars. [Hook: Defcee and Korim (x2)]

[Verse 1: Sean Smart] It's the feeling that you get when you approach the mic to spit; same confidence you need in politics or walking up to a chick. Straighten up, take a breath, watch your step, stay high--no, I mean, say "hi" if you can't think of nothing else. It's like hearing Slug and Murs together for the first time cause I know inside it's like nothing you've ever felt. It's better felt thru the trunk with the bass up; rollin' with the homies, scribblin' lines on some paper. Corner store, we need a chaser. Swisher...make it grape, uhh. Fill it with some bud, spark it up, and take a great puff. Yeah...this is THAT kinda feeling. Matching Moses with some great emcees is giving higher meaning... ...meaning... Higher Education. Yeah, they been waiting. Built atop a cloud with skill and great determination, a class filled with lyricists from all across the nation. Okay, then here it is: I can't wait to see your faces. [Hook: Moses] (There are no words here. Just a harmony of duh-duh-duh-duh or something. Pretend it's deep, though.) [Verse 2: Korim] Sorry when I'm rippin' if a little bit of wicked might just spill up out the pen. I'm just spittin' what I'm livin' Listen to the sickness. The picture is vivid as the scripture I'm givin'. It ain't for dividends or ends. The diction that I'm tricklin' is for the residents of tenements and citizens and friends. Fist jumpin' on the lunch table, sicker than the phlegm. Snare runnin', kick skippin', with a pen. Homies rappin' off the top of a brim. I'm tryna bring it back and have these rappers start blackin' again. Backpack, tape full of tracks, a pad, and a pen. Ridin' instrumentals like we capture the wind. Little youngin's actin' like men. Spittin' fat as Hell though we actually thin. Never tell where we actually been. Talkin' 'bout the places that our rhymes will take us if we make it. Heart drop, beatin' on the paper, hard, not believin' all the haters. Raw shock. The lethalest of vapors. Yeah. [Hook: Moses] [Verse 3: Defcee] Jo... My storylines are flippin' scripts. I'm grippin' with the gems. Peep: the listeners are trickin'. I be pimpin' with the pen. Put it on they playlist. When it's gettin' to the end, they scrollin' over the title, double-clickin' it again. Back when I was scribblin' some writtens with my friends who were kickin' wicked with the tilted fitteds on they heads. Flows ironed together like some stitches into hems. Actin' as if 'Pac were livin', flickin' spit onto a lens. Damagin' cameras; mishandlin' stanzas with amateur grammar. We were too young. Hieroglyphics on crude tongues. Slidin' by cold until all of our luge done. Like Carnival staff, when we made the cruise/crews run. Wannabe new Puns: no limmericks. The flow is intimate whenever it's kissin' on the rhythm. Get a bit of spittle off of the mic and use the hand I dribble with. Can't understand like letters to illiterates? Then PICTURE this. [Hook: Moses]

[Verse 1: Defcee] It was just another night on the town. Clean outt the bar 'til they wipin' it down. Glass full of ice. Finna spike it with Crown. Illy on the decks gettin' right to the sounds. Then she walked up, heels and her swag right and I knew the first thing she would ask, like, "Daaaaamn, son, you got mad height." But she was lookin' good. I ain't gon' act tight. "So you six foot, seven foot, eight foot?" She was sizin' me up like a Wayne hook. Crackin' jokes. Got her laughin'...great look. Nice line, I'ma put it in the playbook. Mo's like, "Playbook? You ain't got no game!" Shush. "What?" Naw, girl. He just insane. "Look, boy, what you standin' for?" I said, "You ain't heard? Chi don't dance no more!" [Hook: Defcee, Bonnie, and Christ B.] (Don't stop) Don't lose your cool, just move (Don't stop) Don't lose your cool, just groove (Don't stop) You lose your step, it's fine (Don't stop) Just get it right next time (Don't stop) Everybody smooth whether you wine or dine or lookin' for one-night-screws. If you tryna mack, I ain't mad at all. Do you, then head out the back door. (Out the back door?) Out the back door! (Out the back door?) Out the back door! Yeah, jo, I ain't mad at all Do you. Go and do you. (Out the back door?) Out the back door! (Out the back door?) Out the back door! Yeah, jo, I ain't mad at all Do you. [Verse 2: Bonnie] Hey, maybe...we can do these things. Not frontin' if he prove he means that everything is anything but my love will cost you green. At the bar, at least. Intoxicate me. Make me believe you. Even if you don't move for the sake, dude, I'm on the dance floor, windin', snake move. I got no plans for the day two. I could tell you care, but you gotta take me there. Cuz I got choices: anything in here. Boys Rolls Royces so you better voice quick. Oh, what? Oh, I'm your first pick? Ha! Catchin' the thirst quick. Far as I'm concerned, you got a lot to learn. Stuck in a playbook, pages yet to turn. [Hook: Defcee, Bonnie, and Christ B.]

And let the congregation say... What happens when church go in debt to state? Blood money on robes and collection plates. Do you foreclose on a house of God or papal bills its mouth is on? No difference between a Reverend Fred and Bishop Long. They friends of friends. Wafers are down, prayer cards are dealt. They turn into martyrs they make out theyself. This ain't for true believers. Give 'em to Stan Lee. This is for kids who are told to repent for hittin' up Plan B. Old Testament withers and wavers on all this love that isn't sitcom so fuck the Cleavers and the twin beds they never made kids on. I remember every single one of them harsh whispers when my uncle and his husband attended my bar mitzvah. But not everyone's believin' what you seek in Hebrew so you can quit praying that your bedroom isn't see-through. We muted suicide as soon as last summer dimmed. Scrutinized the youth and sighed, like, "Maybe THIS will humble them." Forgetting who we used to crucify on every jungle gym. Of the skin; refuse to call our sisters and our brothers kin. Besides, does God measure rent by love or commandment? If it's the latter, then this revolution is moving against the hum of the planet. Rubbing our hands with Sanskrit. Your statues crumble, unmanaged. If you're hunting in clans for a mantlepiece, we'll hop out the pan with a can of grease. Our lives aren't stone, and yet our martyrs are. Truth bouncing off they tombs like they some armored cars. Explosions in the sky from some of our chartered stars got us wondering if some of they faults are partly ours. It's Mardi Gras. Parade your guilt. Of the same metal that blades are built Came from silt, forgetting it's dirt, claiming that everyone else did it worse. Arguing like worms. This is our compost. It will destroy you. Word to Ivan Drago. So don't just blindly step into a motto. Before you march, make sure you question what you follow.

You know, it's like...I don't wanna be one thing to everybody...but everybody's so much happier with me being one thing. So, Def, (you're the only one I can turn to). Uh...yeah... What they ask of you with your background experience and class assumed is that you sit down, hands folded in backs of rooms and million-kilo-marijuana-stash your views cuz you don't matter. And everybody with a similar hue like yours is gon' shatter the blues they've been given and move on after, right? I mean, isn't that what happened when we crowned this king? Didn't we beat down walls? Ain't this Berlin? All together, sweet now, y'all. Cheese! Smile for the boosters. Suits and ties on the stroll. Shine all your shoes up. Play translator for the people of color they'd rather not talk to. That's the rabbit hole ya fall through. They need someone to explain shit to 'em, and they call you. Yeah. They call you John Smith. Write some bomb shit. Be they favorite. "I love white rappers. I mean, they're just SO MUCH MORE intelligent!" Ha! Haha...lemme go tell Lil' Wyte and Haystak or let's throw on some Justice and let you get your rave back! This all I'm good for, right? As long as three sixteens and the hook's all nice you can book the white boy, hook him up to y'all mics and pay for his punchlines to make y'all night. Thing is, I'll never say no. That's the game, and I'ma play on. Doesn't mean I have to be a pawn cuz I won't take an L like how knights move on the board- -walk. I'm Steve Buscemi. Let's put him on puppet strings while we drinkin' on this Henny. Watch him dance around landmines for your entertainment or attempt to explain shit. No further statements. Chyeah. What they ask of you is talkin' in four-minute spurts. When your raps are through, it's right back to "Adam who?" And then your social anxiety disorder done sapped ya, too. Throw back a brew. Act like you never do. Pretend the page is a friend in the pen you write letters to. Tell Def it's hard on the outside of a spiral and you're angry, you're emo, your homies just fly through to harass and mock ya. Another acid shocker 'til the glass is dropped. No chaser or rocks just vodka. It sits in your chest. Fuck burnin'. Start prayin' that your luck's turnin'. Tell people that you don't like writing depressing shit, and then argue with your producers about messages. Huh. What took my reason? Feeling like Hunter S. Thompson at the end of football season. This won't end like he did from a cannon to the sky and coverin' the whole region. Runnin' the wrong sequence. Your future was all sequined, and now the shit's Wheat Thins. Doubt creeps in, and every verse could be your last one. Defcee's perfect. Let's start workin' on Adam. He's weird and he's awkward. Let's give him a little bit of that stage presence and confidence to walk with. Destroy and rebuild. Stay out the city. Nobody likes him there. They toleratin'. They listenin' to this song now, and prolly hatin'. It's time to move on... ...nah... ...fuck all that. It's too easy: one large trap. Sometimes, I write like I'm thoughtless. Thanks for the talk, Def. (You're the only one I can turn to)

This isn't a wake, but it's a warning. I don't wanna mourn the living. Feel me? Jo...a smile can only hide so much. I can tell while we packin' all the blunts we might smoke up. If we spillin' guts, it's only what's in the Vega. Tryna bathe in these vapors and pray that we stay the flavor. Take a couple hits off they hints and let it drug me. By now, we were sposed ta have deals and gettin' comfy. I'm still hella college loans from even seein' bubbly. A clean-shaven future now stubbled and feelin' bumpy. Wasted potential got us grievin' ugly. It really hasn't changed since the first time I had to leave the country. Though I ain't even judging, I thought, I can grow up and be a man or not grow up and be my buddies. Usin' adult words and sayin' we grindin'. Fame got fifteen minutes and we delayin' the timin'. Watch the clouds floatin' by they eyelids like, just cuz we left high school doesn't mean our minds did. Some of us need parentin', others are havin' sons. Some of us sober now, others stay packin' bud. Some of us off the map, others done moved across it. Some of us say, "Fuck the rules" where other dudes would forfeit. Finding crews to brawl with until we all bruised and brolic. Sailin' into life on some of the dues we forgin'. Livin' like we losin' fortunes with the cable cut, bills late, and the air runnin' through the faucet. Homeless, makin' houses outta couches. Wear apathy like gold crowns instead of bein' grounded. In your twenties and there's still gossip on your mouth, kid? When one of us trainwrecks, everybody crowds around it. Let me make it clear: this is sincere. My life's an open window. Ain't been no tints here. The vision crisp, clear. Watchin' through these squints, scared. Y'all seen me shift from babyfaced to thick beards. Rather sooner than later. Adam is not for patience. Communication restricted to snatches of conversation. Everyone's so happy whenever them bottles grace 'em but the roles that they got us playin'? Definitely not our ages. Shooooot...I'm enjoyin' youth, gettin' drunk a lot. Still hella awkward whether I been off or on the spot. Still walkin' around Madison feelin' culture shocked. Still hella sporadic about the songs I'm pumpin' out. How can I discuss y'all? Don't have a tough jaw. Askin', "What's next?" I answer with a stuck craw. "Maybe I'll do some teachin', poetry, or emceein'." Then study they reactions to see if they really believe it. Back on my medication, a walking pill bottle so FUCK taking chances. I'm tryna BUILD lottos. But I'm no better than my dogs, so let's burn 'til we urns. Pretend I ain't said anything at all. I know I ain't been around, jack, but you callin' all these little girls "besties?" I ain't about that. And from what I know, and from what I've heard, you the shepherd now and I been shoved out the herd. See, I'm good with that. I still got love for you. Less is more, and lately I done been on my hustle, too. We all been on the bricks. I've even chucked a few. What used to make me mad is now some shit I chuckle through. Now I ain't near a jerk, but that's how I feel it works. It's what's runnin' behind my eyes when I see your smirk. Not every blunt's an exit. Not every mirror hurts. Had to get it off my chest. Sorry I ain't clear it first.

[Verse 1] I'm living in a world where... ...Van Gogh snapped his paintbrush in half or Albert Einstein ain't touched his math. The world's a stage, every verse a play, but afterwards, I just can't crush the mask. I'm three thousand miles from perfect. A shattered vase that's wondering where its worth went so 'til this curse bent, and this cloud cross, and insecurity quits runnin' its mouth off, I'm usin' friends as crutches. I learned it from Hov. Think on my career: backburners and stoves. Heart- and sense-less, cracked sternum and nose in a mist of purple rolled to keep my burdens gone. And everybody that's been hearin' him grow can't look me in they eyes or they turn into stone. It's never timely. I guess it ain't nothin' but a bunch of pillars of salt crumblin' behind me. Yeah...my mind turns to ash after all of the blunts that I'm burning to pass every single wild curve and turn in my past I emerge from it glass. Take a look. [Hook (x2)] Crawl, run, walk it off, tell 'em all you okay. Hit 'em with a punchline. Act like they ain't cold. Say, "I've tried all I can, and this is what I'm up to." This is just a wall. Time for me to rush through. [Verse 2] Burnin' Black & Milds on some Nero shit cuz my potential been a pistol I can't reload with any right amount of ammo to make people trip so instead I'll let you creep in on a peephole tip. I been feelin' like a horror movie that you can't leave. Bruises are illusions. Scars, you can't see. I was too young, jumped the shark, hit mad teeth. All my goals hit sharp arcs to plan B. So...when it all falls down and the volume goes up and them laws called 'round and nobody realized I was lost on "Crowned" and I try to be as hard as a sawed-off round, what's left is this: mess, stress, and grit. Exhale, pen in extended wrist. Talk's all, "Jo, what Def says is sick" while I sleep like a rat that been left the ship. [Hook (x2)] [Verse 3] This is when the last rhyme you write's all finished and the helping hands you've given have bite marks in 'em. The L at the end when you might start winnin'. Drown when that spotlight RIGHT starts hittin'. And this is not a dream! This is not a dream! This isn't where I wanted to be at seventeen. Where is all the love? Where is all the cream? Where are all the songs I shoulda been doin' with Preem? Where are all the kingmakers? Where are all the queens? Why was I cut soon as I left the scene? Where is all the growth? Where are all the leaves? How come I'm twenty-one and still ain't met a better me? Who wants to listen to poor little rich kids except others who can feel every pause in the sentence? This won't be earnin' no applause so I'm screamin'. Will I finally have the balls to repeat this? You'll never retweet it, or share it with your friends. This is for golden kids, flares above their heads. This isn't for my homies. This isn't for your beds. This is the last stitch before I'm runnin' outta thread. Ain't a better revenge than your triumphs. Pump your pulse. It breathes wherever the mic is. Throw up prayers that everybody likes it cuz don't a sound exist that hurts worse than silence.

[Verse 1] Damn, y'all. Since when are we adults? A better breed of punks with a pedigree of pulse. Could never be the Hulk. Y'all my biceps, jo. Though a time may come where we might let go, my smile says no. Globes don't stop. Pass pretty fast, but if mojos drop, we won't grow cropped. Ain't no Photoshop. Bond stone cold rock. If it don't hold taut, know that a grudge ain't cement. Can't pay love for the rent, though we'll hug 'til it's spent. What you couldn't budge with a wrench or a judge on the bench with some cuffs on your neck. Cliche smothered and then some. You know I meant well. Y'all the reason I had to leave my spent shell. But before it's on to the next, thought I would drop y'all a line so we all could connect. [Hook] For Mom and Dad and everyone who raised me; for my sisters and brothers and those who saved me; for the lightening and the thunder that you stayed through, all I can say is thank you. Yo... ...for Mom and Dad and everyone who raised me; for my sisters and brothers and those who saved me; for the lightening and the thunder that you stayed through, all I can say is thank you... ...so thank you. [Verse 2] People wonder how I got addicted to smile-wearing. I tell 'em it's the spark that isn't in your nice earrings. Though I know it's what you wouldn't like hearing, your hand knew the difference between ass-whoopings and child-rearing. You social butterfly. I've never known comfort like I do coming through whenever it's a homecoming. And where Mrs. Levin's son is, forever shown wonder. How all my friends see you as a gem to call mother. Older I get, the more you love just clownin'. Shiiiiiit...you even comfortable when you cussin' around me. Even when I was hard to reach like the top shelf with real difficult combinations for my locked self. Know you're much more than you tell folks, and though I've grown a lot now that my lungs felt smoke, we've had hard luck, and stress you can't master. So if I catch you cryin', tryna make you laugh after. [Hook] [Verse 3] Dad named me Adam cuz he thought it strong. Twenty-one years of leanin' later, maybe he thought it wrong. When I walk around like a monk that forgot his psalms or a harpist's fingers that done lost all they songs, I remember Hillel, and what his name holds. Standin' on one foot, teachin' from a stained scroll. Even if you only think it as the same old, it turned my entire mindframe into a payload. When every word's a seed, and each limb's a pillar, and traits from childhood flicks I've seen hit the mirror, I look at all our similarities like hand-me-downs. What you held on your back, I'll attempt to carry now. So even when we were stuck in wild tight times, I'd lose every staring contest with eyes like mine. Always looked up, even when I acted loveless. Your voice a favorite record...hope I do this sample justice. [Hook]

Ayyyyyy...it's a beautiful day in Madison, Wisconsin. I hope it's a beautiful day wherever you're at. Just...everything about me just feels...right...youknowwhatI'msayin'? Uh. [Verse 1] Nothing in the world could replace this grin. Lady Fate's a gem. She every place I'm in. Feel her breath on my face, how she grace the wind. Same way that all of this luck grace my limbs. So amazing, trim all my face and skin. You could say any delay today's razor thin. Everyone I'm hangin' with is next-of-kin. Swimmin' in fresh linen. Livin' on this bed I'm in. See, I just got lined up. Shouts to Mauricio. Out the chair, beamin' like a tweener at a Beiber show. So my stride longer, feelin' like a sly charmer. Phone rings. Right caller. Talk while I smile for her. Ain't tryna style on ya, but if I do, my bad. See, I ain't budgin', jo. You just can't move my swag. Listen...let me be fly for a second. Wishin' I could bottle this vibe...supply it forever. [Hook: Defcee and Christ B. (x2)] How you feeliiiiiiin'? (I'm doin' fiiiiiine) Where you been, jooooo? (I was on the griiiiiiind) Still showin' looooove, all the time, and I'm good now, cuz the night is mine. [Verse 2] I wanna recant the mumblin' rants that I've uttered into subwoofers, mufflers, and amps cuz when I was younger, I was tougher, buggin' a gnat, gettin' on the last nerve of my uncles and aunts. Cuz every family reunion, I had they sanity stewin', kept calamity brewin', and got my vanity ruined. Heard all they advice, and handled it stupid. So now I listen while I'm sittin', grippin' a can of the brew, and just witness as all they love movin'. Texas Hold 'Em at night, it's twenty to one room, and I don't bluff well. My cousins rough shells. They took all my money and gave me a hug. Hell, maybe Cal's at the lake with Kate watchin' how a swollen star trades its weight in space. I might go on a walk at my lazy pace. If they eat while I'm gone, hope I'm saved a plate. [Hook: Defcee and Christ B. (x2)] [Verse 3] Summer in the city, and we sittin' by the river. Chillin' OUT the cipher, we some different kinda spitters. Cuz the talk don't stop even when the raps do. Lokos and Flamin' Hots. This dinner is bad news. This is our youth. We got a few calendars 'til adulthood step out the shadow to challenge us. I keep my balance up, juggle the here and now. We a million miles from even bein' near a frown. Buildings peering down, the sky gigglin'. Lookin' clean AND Sheen. You know we tri-winnin' with it. Not a bit of wicked, though we crack jokes. Sniffin' the sweet wine scented in the Black smoke. Every year is ours, clear and far the best yet. Sly-dissin'. "Man, you trippin', homeboy, I'm well-pressed." Too nerdy, always writin' a rap as we smirkin' at existence and it's smilin' back. Yeah.

[Verse 1: Defcee] Def black on beats on some James Brown shit. My lyrics the material they make crowns with. Better not be nobody rowdy that stay 'round this. They'll be runnin' through walls, tryna break down bricks on some AZ, Alpo, Money-Makin' Mitch while y'all sweet-talkin' outcha Now 'n' Later lips. I'm the franchise star the team surroundin' players with while you be the fan that's servin' Gatorade to the bench. Wrote punchlines I ain't think you could all get so now I'm pennin' these records and improvin' the raw text. Chips against me? You'll be losin' y'all bets when I'm laceratin' ya playlists and bruisin' y'all decks. Get abusive on sets like I batter child actors. THAT'S for all y'all thinkin' Adam's mild-mannered. Might get mad and start attackin' wild rappers, then lay back relaxed with a Black & Mild after. [Hook: Defcee and Danez Smif (x2)] *Drop that bass* Let it bang, let it bump, let 'em know that you keep somethin' heavy in the trunk! *Drop that bass* Let it knock, knock, knock, let 'em know who it is when you're comin' down the block! [Verse 2: Danez Smif] Coming hard like a dwarf planet speeding towards this Earth and since birth it's been a must that I crash into this crust just to shake things up: I'm a deep impact. I'm 2012. Kill 2,000 emcees and drag them to Hell. While I ascend to heaven, like, make people say, "Oh, snapper. He's a rapture for these rappers." Damn right. Mark of the beast on my feet, Armageddon in your face like I kicked you with a cleat but I don't play soccer. I run track. That's a fact. Flo-Join' past these cats. And that's not an empty threat. That's a bet I always win. How much? So much that Las Vegas won't let me in. But gambling is a sin, so I guess that's good, unlike y'all records so we wish y'all would just hang up the microphone and pass it over this way so we can do a better job and simply let the beat say: [Hook: Defcee and Danez Smif (x2)] [Verse 3: Defcee] People wonder what Def'll give 'em. Tell 'em an exorcism, better rhythm, drum-wreckin', and letter rippin'. A mess of spittin' without no edits or record skippin'. Accept me for how I been positioned without window-dressin' or leopard skinnin'. Really, this is just a way to take up time. Y'all ain't ready for my game. This a layup line. Yeah, ya fly fitted cap gotcha reppin' ya team, jo, but my thinking cap looks more like Cerebro. When a hater's detected, Professor X 'em off the map. Hater-proof, Sabretooth: I be shreddin' on the raps with every beat measured to leave your street severed. Sleep on me. I'll turn you freaks to Heath Ledger. Plus my rhymes are the knives that I hide in the holster. If y'all so serious, then I am the Joker. Fuck up entire cities while you commit minor crimes. Put a pencil in your eye, take it out, then write a rhyme. [Hook: Defcee and Danez Smif (x2)]

A If life is every man's kingdom, then some are tradin' it in for a horse just to say that they sling some. We're either targets for archers or the pets that they walkin'; groupthink and doubletalk us into they corner of the market. Sellin' us a shackle for a chain and a whip; cling to every word, we hang from they lips like dangling spit: six-shooter mouthpiece, we stay on they hips 'til we bang on some shit. B Rappers nowadays ain't got no pride, B. Remember back when 'Pac was gettin' popped in the lobby? Next day, checked out the hospital, like, "Fuck your IV and your police detail. If they want me, they gon' find me." C I could give a damn about a golden phonograph. It'd be nice...but I'm not holding my breath. Same reason I don't wear my soul on my neck cuz I can feel somebody else's sole on my chest. And that footprint's huge; all these Mr. Fix-its tryna Goodwrench dude. But peep the moonshine that this fool Def brewed. It'll drive the blind to vision and give 'em the Stevie Wonder shakes when I'm vibin' with 'em. D I'm in the darkness, candle handlin'. Stayin' on my toes spoutin' flows...cherubin'. Anybody dope from my scene, I done ran with them. My name is Adam Levin, but they called me adamantium. E I fight with the spiked fist at the end of my right wrist, so if your head's at the top of my price list, protect your v-necks, stay-flats, and popped collars. I'm the Don Dada, reach longer than Doc Octo- -pus. F Push piff rap, gift wrapped like I had white fluff and some chin fat. G This that let-the-liquor-tell-it-all-blends-perfectly. H Blood in the dojo and both of my palms burgundy. I People always try to compliment me on my music. It's appreciated, but I try not to listen to it. Give 'em dap, keep it movin', stay out the swine, and count all of my blessings like Yeshiva students. J Sky ain't the limit now that I drop stars. K Candy stands and State Street: I got bars. These are Visine rhyme schemes: eyedrop bars until I'm seven-meals-a-day-at-IHOP large. L (What's that got to do with the beginning of the verse?) I dunno, jo, I used to take Adderall. M I'm out there, Agent Scully...while you playin' dummy, I'm holdin' down my place on Earth until somebody come and take it from me.

This was so much easier before my boys perched me on a throne. Tuesday night, me and Nate traded verses on the phone. SCP beats filled the inbox. Battled cats after P.E. All my sixteens kept the gym hot. Shit changed now that I'm livin' near Rimrock. No more ciphers that got me kickin' until I rip socks. Went from bein' my school's dopest rapper, the total package, to a foam peanut in this big box. Not pretty enough for a new sponsorship and won't graduate 'til after I lose my scholarship. Feelin' like I gotta split quick as cracks in pots, prongs on forks, or corks on wine bottle lips. They say I'm Van Wilder...Ferris Beuller, but I'm ditchin' AND failin' class. Hallelujah. Caught in the crosswalk, dodgin' scooters, thinkin' on all the folks I gotta folow through for: both my parents, plus Gabe and Aaron, Ricky, Lavell, Shaun, Sev, Mo, Drop Beats, and Ruelz. The reason I write until I'm splittin' my nails cuz I promised 'em all somethin' different. For Ray, Vic, and Philly, cuz they love to listen to a young'n given a public system JUST to see how he'll be fuckin' with it. TK for they faith, Speedy, Sho, and Murrow for loyalty, and my girlfriend cuz she spoils me. How can I think on turnin' my talent off quick as an inappropriate ringtone when labels be havin' all of these rappers gettin' they Prince on. Instead of bein' they slave, I'm breakin' chains with every pen I get my prints on. This is reconstruction...renovation. Crazy how down-to-Earth I can be when I'm levatatin'. Put down the magazine, receptionist called my name. "The door's on your left, Def. Success is waitin'."