Quality Control

Ayo 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 ****** 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 acupunture from the **** 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 pestulence

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

Ayo 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

Ayo my team Dreamworks without Spielberg or spill

words

Communicate from the Earth throughout the universe

I transmit, transcipts, transcontinental lyrics

Deeply rooted in your spirit

Up, I love the power of words, nouns and verbs

The pen and the sword, linguistik on award

No folklore or myths in my penmanship

The Panther Scholar Warriors is what I present, uh

Verbally decapitating those against a

Jihad Pisipili lama 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 99 attributes

You baby MC's drink Pedialyte

My underground doesn't like you, the media might

But we the elite 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

Ayo, my rhythm reveal rollercoaster 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

Ayo 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