Bring It On

[Chorus: The Ill Rahlos]

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

[Verse 1: Pharoahe Monch]

Monch, uh!

I even be getting more graphic than a Neo Geo thirty-two-bit

Computer chip be slipped between my lips, and then I’ll spit!

Spit it out, spit it out, go ahead, spit it out, that itty-bitty style you upchuck

Better believe I butt-fuck emcees from the rear, it appears you’re stuck-up!

It’s my terminology that strike the mind and rips this beat apart

You know the many styles I choose will bruise crews from the start

I flow, awkwardly—that’s awkwardly I flow that’s to the rhythm

Incisions are made into the brain, and then I begin to give ‘em a lobotomy

Follow me, I’m shaping your brain like pottery all over the track

Gimme the P-H, gimme the A-R, gimme the O-A, gimme the H-E, Pharoahe!

Crazy poison-tip arrows are hitting you from all directions

You cannot dodge or manage to dislodge them from the point at which they are connecting

I am se-se-selecting a ne-ne-ne-ne-new style-style fo-fo-for

Pile-piles of emcees who try to get bu-bu-buck-buckwild

F-f-f-fuck that!

When I’m in a renovative state of mind, I’m innovative

Never been afraid of rocking a microphone, I’m prone to be eliminating

Cling when I sing a song of sixpence, if it makes sense, then sing along

Cling along to my nuts if you got guts then bring it on

[Chorus: The Ill Rahlos]

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

[Verse 2: Prince Poetry]

There is no equivalent one, consider me the epitome of rhymes

Rhythm of TECs execution is parallel to them with an exception of the organisms

My telepathy cannot be dismantled, so stop sweating me

Advanced data, now watch your greater updates and raps get trampled

Fee-fi-fo steps of elevation show

That I’m ahead of your time, specifically right behind a dope rhyme

Ripping shit up at primetime, I’m Optimus Primetime material

Imperial wizard of vocabularic havoc, I eat emcees like cereal

That’s soggy, milky skills like Mister Miyagi

When it’s foggy, I release globby spits of remains of rappers in a lobby as a hobby

I’ll rip your knit, shit gets thick quick, get your crew

Before I do something gory to your quite futile styles

Miniature raps get waxed, simonized

Into the fifth dimension of your centrifugal, never typical—stand attention, I’m

Mystical, rip shit ‘til the power blows

Those chose to compete, we delete ‘em—observe defeat

Descending down from above to get cha, hit cha, split cha, ditch cha

Picture you victorious? I’m gory plus your shit’s mad boring

Bring it on

[Chorus: Ill Rahlos]

Bring it on, bring it on

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!

Bring it on, bring it on

Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!