The Matrix

[Intro: Black Milk] Yeah, ugh, yuh [Verse 1: Black Milk] For every pair of lines I spit I leave you paralyzed and bent so clear a path If you not parallel to my paragraphs Apparently, if they say I'm better than you There's no reason for me to put myself on the pedestal Movin' forward ahead of you Like you ridin' a bike and you can't move till' the pedals do Nobody team's comparable Niggas fallin' so fast, they need to pull the strings on a parachute So stop the comparisons and get buried up under American soil We can start with the letter U— S Food for thought, thought for fools Where niggas will take a life for the jewels and a pair of shoes The hood is out for dollar signs (Ugh) We'd trade the Heaven's skies for a slice of the devil's pie Try to make it my downfall, but see all I know is the tour Audiences' applause for the curtain calls All the best now is spittin' the truth, why? You's a let down like convertible roofs, I See the mic and murder the booth, nah Killin' shit precise like a snipe that's on top of the roof, ha [Hook: DJ Premier] "You, you, you love my style cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in The Matrix" "It's out of hand how the man gotcha" "You're in my Dangerfield like Rodney" "You, you, you love my style cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in The Matrix" "It's out of hand, how the man gotcha" "You're in my Danger— field—" [Verse 2: Pharaohe Monch] Four-finger ring rap, sling slang, Pharaohe, the flows good You couldn't hang if you was Ving Rhames in Rosewood Couldn't string together some shows If hoes would sing together with soul for you And then you came w I'm Billy Joel, I really soul Might dust off some red vinyl that's really old Or chop drums On a roll while I'm shotgun with a wireless MPC 4000—I got one I bomb crews, I'm hot I'm cool, the Top Gun, but not The Fonz or Tom Cruise, I got A pool of lyrical warn shots that you shouldn't respond to (Like) pant legs around the ankles of hipsters (I'm tight) Paintin' a more visual picture than Pixar Get more skull than Skeletor; I rip fuel While y'all bite like parasites and pitbulls [Hook: DJ Premier] "You, you, you love my style 'cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in The Matrix" "It's out of hand, how the man gotcha" "You're in my Dangerfield like Rodney" "You, you, you love my style 'cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in The Matrix" "It's out of hand, how the man gotcha" "Y—Y—You're in my Dangerfield like Rodney" (Yo) [Verse 3: Sean Price] It goes: "Punch, shoot, stab, kill Smoke this, sniff that, nigga, pass the pills" Niggas rapping 'bout daffodils—tree-hugger That's when the gat slap your grill—P mug you My defense is offense, offense is nonsense Drunk with the kufi on, praying to Allah, bent Clark Kent with the glasses off Power-fuckin' Lois Lane 'cause her ass is soft Crip tonight, but I'm a Blood today Latin King tomorrow, keep it caliente I send Spanish niggas to visit your label Rep for mi gente and take your digital cable The God, hardbody, y'all ain't physically able To test me; I'm Jet Li, this whipping is fatal, ugh Blast gats, y'all niggas is past-tense Acting like a boss, get lost—what up, Hex? Rrr [Hook: DJ Premier] "You, you, you love my style cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in the atrix" "It's out of hand, how the man gotcha" "You're in my Dangerfield like Rodney" "You, you, you love my— my style 'cause I'm not what you're used to" "Caught in The Matrix" "It's out of hand, how the man gotcha" "You're in my Danger— You're in my Dangerfield—"