Persevere - Molemen, Mass Hysteria

I swear to God I’m hungry, plus blood thirsty

I paid dues, but if I don’t make it who the fuck gon' reimburse me?

No one, so it’s up to me to remain true

We came through to spark it with your lame crew in plain view

You fantasize that you might be a star

Thought you got open but didn’t even get slightly ajar

I done seen your style before

A little talent and soul but when the pressure is on you fold

You couldn’t take the heat I guess you had enough

See problem is, you don’t wanna be the best bad enough

You ain’t hungry like me my heart pumps rocket fuel

I stay on my own dick like playing pocket pool

Seeing me is like seeing microscopic molecules

Think not then son put up your profits and jewels

You’ll be feeling me no matter what vocal pitch that I’m rhyming in

Style switch with perfect timing

And I’m outshining men with wordplay

I’m always in the lab

On the down low, seldom seen like deadbeat dads

A legend in the making and you can’t be one

Cause it takes more than just skill to be a champion

It takes equal parts of talent, luck and ac'

Charisma, qualities you certainly lack

We two of the industries freshest rebels

We don’t fuck with platinum chains, we deal with other precious metals

Example

I got a heart of gold

An iron will, balls of brass, nerves of steel

Words is real and Gee-Field can tell

That you don’t stand a snowballs chance in Hell to advance and prevail

I’m making my point perfectly clear

That when cats is half stepping this year we persevere

«Listen, we here to give the hardcore what they looking for» — Xzibit

«Dedicated»

«To those who know the deal» — Talib Kweli

«It ain’t a game»

«We ain’t afraid to bring the war»

No other crew gets this nice

We pay dues kid we live this life

(We living it ch’all)

Born to rip mics and spit shit tight

I show you how to rip shit right

Peace to my man Cap D

Bobby and Tone B

Rap be

More than a hobby it’s my only

Purpose in life

Ain’t shit else worth the strife

But mics and perfect beats, not a search for a wife

And fuck 9 to 5 jobs

Punching time cards is last in line of my probs

See my squad’s trying to defy odds

Design more hits than you find from Ty Cobb

Dimes and tight broads combine with nice

The kind of fly snobs inclined to drive Saabs

Trucks with phat rims plus a black Benz

My rap friends live plush and stack ends

Fuck the fads and trends

We’ve been down since the Jacksons, Cold Krush and back spins

Spin it back

And now we must have revenge

For past sins for has beens of wack hymns

Grab pads and pens

Amass mens like sailboats when I drop paragraphs and Timbs

Smack rims off of ducks with glass chins

Scuff my black Timbs I’ll bust the Mac-10's

Burn weak acts just like packs of Slims

For these cats seeking hats and brims

Keep cats running laps like tracks in gyms

These gats got 'em doing jumping jacks and back bends

Leave 'em soaking like a contact lens

When combat begins, your life contract ends

What happens then?

That depends

I could start swinging the ax and hacking limbs to fractions

And just chill, we mack slims

Sorta like bear traps attract skins to my lap like napkins

Then acts like captains and rap lords

Sip on half Coors

Piss on boards

Leave my jumping to pass ports

Wood grain dashboards or maybe a fast Porsche

But not if trash is

And if you that type you on a crash coarse with my task force