[Intro: Median]
Like to make a toast (Aight!)
To the gift of giving
The pleasure of pleasing and receiving
To the Sender
Step up, on your mark...
(Are you ready)
[Verse 1: Median]
Set, go and I'm gone, y'all, the Kev Brown's Low End Theory
Sky high's are cloudy, slight chance of shower
And buckle up, though at this speed with this power
Nothing would survive at that instant
I never understood the discipline
'Til I got a whiff of the turbulence
Then I got a glimpse of the purpose
No need to pen it, I murder it
So independent, I co-defend
Me and Phontigga, my confidant
Run up in this gig like Columbine
Only sparing kids and concubines, Mazel tov
Moolies, another dine on his duty
It's the rap phenomenon, yours truly, fuck Moody
Caliente, but bipolar flows keep me ice cap cold
Lamping in the snow, S-A-D Volvo, baby
Never mind the curse the kid Kanye speak of
It's safe full of features, the 8 will beam me to presentation
The Bapes chasing for the king with the queen, still I swing
Open communication, the gates cheating, undivine em
Raise three vaginas from fetuses
To Sasha, Malia ish
[Interlude: Median & Phonte]
(Another classic joint) Uh
Baby, baby
Median, let me take it from here, my nigga (Uh)
New Tigallo, new Tigallo, new Tigallo
[Verse 2: Phonte]
Ayo
They say, Murder She Wrote this
Going off like Hiro-shima, spit fer-ocious
And it's only a gamble if you don't know what you betting on
Phonte always deliver like Cirrhoisis
What I fear most is, these Carl Thomas niggas getting E-motional
With the mere notion of some divide and conquer shit
It leaves a mere potion, keep an ear to the street and what I hear most is
"Authenticity dawg, you put a hurting on it
Connected, Leave It All Behind, you put a hurting on it
But what's the deal with you and 9th on a solo?" I say
"We was homeboys before rap, nigga we working on it."
But right now we got's to bring my mans back
My J League brethren, true pion-eer
Got a master plan that I just can't di-vulge
But listening to your records, I reckon it won't be hard
Kev Brown got the shit banging like a T.R
808, say my grace than be off
Cause y'all go dumb, I go full retard
Run that, this is the come back, beeotch!
[Outro: Median]
To my J-League crew, that's what's up
To the whole Low Budget, that's what's up
To my pops and my mother, that's what's up
To my Blunt Dry brothers, that's what's up
To my lady Each Beezy, that's what's up
To my nigga D-Dug, that's what's up
Amaya, Karma and Eden, that's what's up
And you know we don't stop!
