[Intro: The Big Chill]
"I feel like everybody wants something from me"
"Yeah, tell me about it – it's a cold world out there
Sometimes I think I'm getting a little frosty myself"
[Chorus: Vordul Mega & Vast Aire]
My shell – mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is animal found toast
My shell – mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is animal found toast
My shell – mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is animal found toast
Animal found toast
But my ghetto
Animal
[Verse 1: Vordul Mega]
Life's ill, sometimes life might kill
Vordul Mega, five digits, grab mics, mic strike type ill
Is life real? Yo, ahk', he builds
When life feels like Earth don't spin, whirlwinds might blend
Life's at a standstill – dangerous, 'cause man kills
And still cats visualize life ghetto-like
One mind, sometime these cats see life
Street life in complete light, and be like,
"I'ma live life after this one crime"
One line from the Megallah blow spines
Everyone knows the city's ill, cats kill
Still black man holds nine, gotta chill, star, see A-L-L-A-H
Be the light of Surah, work hard, See Cipher, A-L-L-A-H
Adapt bars, snatch stars, and detach large channels
But our bar's handle might break mics
Vordul Megallah the cannibal ate mics
Strive, live live
Fuck five, I want a hundred and eight mics
[Break: Vast Aire]
Son, yo, son, did you see that kid, yo?
Yo, yo, chill out, man, chill out
Yo, son, did you, yo, son he pulled it out..."
[Verse 2: Vordul Mega]
Five digits, cock biddy nine milli
One floor shot, silly, spun city, one verse hit milly
Little girls spinning curls 360, living in a world shitty
Yo, they spun young, Earth now shitty
NY 5-0 might shoot black head
Nigga, sorry, I sold space suit to crack head
D.T.s operate mechanically, po-po in slow-mo
Black kids locked away, add a key
Plus one fourth pound of smoke flow
While Lockheed Fabian, Ahmed Arabian, laying in
Bodega holding drama AK, spoke like As-salāmu OK
Choking vodka mixed with O.J.
Wig splits mad quick
Spinning 3-6-oh wave, C4 blew the door
Number eight, Summer face, tank top with a knot
Number nine said "Run the place"
Took my girl stereo – CD, plus the tape
Brooke star, don't wet that, fucked her face, lets stuff the place
Jet back to Santa Cruz, Californ-i-a
Peace to C-God locked up, cat born nine ways
Come home mad soon, live ill, life phases
Like little black girl got shot
Damn, it hurts when they spun, Earth filled with knots
Gonna make a difference, so we get locked
Caught in the shit and losing what we got
Come on black equals, equals
[Interlude]
"Do you know that you're one of the few predator species
That preys even on itself?"
[Break: El-P]
And if there's crack in a basement...
[Verse 3: Vast Aire]
Crack heads stand adjacent
Anger displacement from food stamp arrangements
You were a still-born baby
Mother didn't want you but you were still born
Boy meets world – of course his pops is gone, what you figure?
That chalky outline on the ground is a father figure?
So he steps to the next stencil, that's a hustler
Infested with money and diamond cluster
Let's talk in layman terms
Rotten apples and big worms, early birds and poachers
New York is evil at its core, so those who have more than them
Prepare to be victims
Ate up by vultures, the politicians
In a dog-eat-dog culture, that'll sic 'em
Lack of mineral, we take it personal
A pigeon can't drop shit if it never flew
Every day is no frills, empty krills,
Broken 40 bottles and MC's with skills
I rest my head on 115
But miracles only happen on 34th, so I guess life is mean
And death is the median
And purgatory is the mode that we settle in (No doubt)
I've got that Eve's Bayou sense of touch, so I fought
To touch every hand of a fan, to read their thoughts
Battered wives, molested children
Roaches on the floor, rats in the ceiling
Cats walk around New York with two fillings
One is in their mouth, the other does the killing
I'm Vast Aire Kramer – top billing
[Outro: Vast Aire]
(Yo, rest in peace to Big L, 139)
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