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[Grand Agent] It's like Farrakahn say, a new thing is happenin today It's sweet to blaspheme beats when you ain't got to pay But the ancients stress patience, the Agent knowledge ancients If I take my time, what can I can't spit Don't exist, the moment bliss, myself and I kiss You know it's bonafide, certified hotness From the muthafreakin Major Deacon to the 5 Interstate, mildly penetrate, like the Kahlua Place the homogenized, to bass I philosophize Grace the demonic guys and space, I'm outta Dodge My interests include flow, love and war The hip championship I'm thuggin for So take the flyest rook rhyme book like a leak and freak Page 43: the Jet Beauty of the Speak Now, I don't really know but some city said The Grand came through, left this kid mic for dead Ya minglin wit mayhem slim ... What up Starr? Word to Kenneth, we ain't in the same You better off spectatin, speculatin the aim Rest assured, I got the fresh mature listeners locked on some extra-next-texturized imagery stock Inspired by, only the desire to be the Mega-Interworld poster man-child MC Songtexte[Chorus] Ya minglin wit mayhem slim [x4] [Grand Agent] Yo, if this ain't ill, dub don't commence wit the drum fill And it don't take a late night to make it tight Willie bigger than a Billy Squire beat but comprehends None of what I speak him see-through cuz him pretend Now I don't really know but some city said The Grand came through, left this kid mic for dead From the front page of Final Call, "Genocide" bellowed They ain't understand this kid mic was made of metal I jetted though, runnin for the credit of course Cause rap shit own my life since James Brown was the source And girls act stupidly when I be spillin 'em text Like they chest was silicone and I was feelin 'em But they numb, +Dumb+ in the skull as I be +Cold Gettin+ Ya minglin' wit mayhem slim, it's soul-splittin ... Pick up the pieces like the bread that be Jesus with the Welch's that's the blood, I know you felt like half a thug When I came in the door, spit somethin raw Then broke fast like we on a twenty city tour, yo Salaam-alaikum on behalf of the move-fakin Who's bacon? Biblically, it's mine for the takin Technically, the recipe is unwritten Cause all these gun smitten rappers just be fuelin the era y'know [Chorus] [Grand Agent] This is the Grand Age, yo, clear the stage Recommit, get on some other shit You in the Grand Age, nigga, clear the stage Yknahmsayin? Bounce! Grand Agent, Kutmasta Kurt Aus Songtexte Mania