Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Let's Go

Pharoahe Monch spits 16 bars of wireless communication:

They research my stem cells, clone ten of me,
send one of 'em back in time just to get rid of me,
stop Pharoahe Monch from having verbal epiphanies,
now that's new definition to "your own worst enemy,"
I glisten man, stop snitching man,
you use sex to sell, your Nextel to Sprint,
everything you represent is immoral,
Cingular, not plural,
you and your Sidekick get rid of that wack Treo,
I freeze MC's zero degrees below,
from blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,
you need to get loose, to the heat I produce,
from Long Beach to Boston,
your chicks text us like Dallas and Austin,
I spark tireless illumination,
fire sixteen bars, wireless communication,
Let's go!

Pharoahe Monch ft. Mela Machinko "Let's Go" - Desire