Biochemical Equation - Wu-Tang Clan, RZA, MF DOOM

Tempted by the sins of life, the pleasures of lust

With wild imaginings that you can’t discuss

Oh, the flesh is weak, it’s a struggle for peace

It’s a daily conflict between man and beast

We strive for God and a better tomorrow

Still suffering from the unforgettable sorrow

Repent from thy sins, son and walk ye straight

Stop talking all that trash boy and talk ye straight

Afflicted by the pressures of life at every vital point

Still, I wouldn’t give an oint'

Or flinch an inch or pitch a pinch

Off the pie or every try to try your wench

Confronted by the devil himself and stay strong

You think you can take the King now meet Kong

Strong as the base of a mountain, there’s no counting

How many MCs have sprung from our fountain

Fifty thousand year process to make this combination

I’m not giving mine away to Satan

Although I know that he’s awaiting

To get a hold of my biochemical equation

I’ma slip him son, I’ma dip him, son

When I catch the drop on him, I’ma clip him, son

Fifty thousand year process, to make this combination

99 elements, biochemical manifestation

I’m not giving mines away to Satan

Although, I know that he’s awaiting

I’ma slip him son, I’ma dip him, son

When I catch the drop on him, I’ma clip him, son

Bet ahk, straight to the head with the pet rock

At least til I can get from out this booth, it’s like a sweat box

Trade a few bars of head nodding, throw us a stack

Pay him and it’s sewed up like thread and bobbin bonus pack

Invest in the first B-boy kid show

Live off skid row with jive talking negros

He wear his beard like a frizzly haired grizzly

And kept his appearances exquisitely rare, where is he?

Is he in the backyard or on your front porch

Or standing in the corner of the club with the blunt torched

You’re soft, they say he rhyme like he starving

And sold odds and bodkins to old gods and goblins

Golly, I’m just a pest and your worst best friend

Who mend and rip space-time fabric like polyester blend

Not a hobby for no knobby-kneed lesser men

Or sloppy like the rest of them, they probably need estrogen

Yo, yo, drunk or sober, son, don’t lose your composure

Semi off the Remy, mixed with Henny, Moet demi'

Underneath the passenger seat, son, tuck the semi'

Israeli issued automatic black pistol

The cop with the flashlight chew gum as he whistle

Tapped on the glass, roll it down fast

License, registration addressed to your lab

They made insurance, the reason why I pulled you over

Cuz the way you were swerving, sir, you can’t be sober

Have you been drinking?

Breathe into the breathalyzer

Get out the car, please, follow this exercise, sir

Put one finger on your nose, now from heel to toe

Walk in a straight line, ten paces, down the road

My homeboy Kano, used to do the mashed potato

Or cartwheels and then spin out like a tornado

They used to chase him, right;

but son, he would always shake em

Then come and puff bowls and make beats inside my basement

Drunk or sober, never lose your composure

Stress on the brain cause pain and stomach ulcers

If you can’t understand, then come closer

We civilized the uncivilized like we supposed to

Drunk or sober, never lose your composure

Mic in your hand, black man stand as a soldier

Stress on the brain, cause pain and stomach ulcers

If you can’t understand, then come closer