[Intro: Akrobatik]
They came from nowhere. They were MCs. They was DJs. They was graff writers. They was hip hop
[Verse 1: Akrobatik]
Yo, whether it's production, mic ripping, rocking cuts, or mixing
If this sh** is broke, then Akrobatik's for the fixing
Cats is lazy like twisting weed with seeds and sticks in
Once the beat's kicks in, you know the top kicks in (What?)
But I ain't wearing nobody's suit on Draft Day
Catch me in some Timbs as I stomp through the pathway
And when you hit me with the jersey (Say what?)
Make sure it says, “Akrobatik, MC Number One,” ‘cause I'm worthy (What? What? What?)
Yo, I rip the mic absurdly, son
My existence is a worldly one—I'm cosmopolitan
Reach inside your wallets and support the cause
Of these rebels without a pause whose lyrics crack jaws
Step back, pause, an*lyze the scene
No verbal drop kicks at multi-level optics—that's keen
Glaring through any transparent scheme without an x-ray
Enlighten entire nations, do it again the next day
My text play an integral part of your awakening
Shaking in your lungs ‘cause y'all just a bunch of pseudo thugs
So while you do your d** that make you believe you hard
I'll rip mics with squads that represent God (What?)
[Interlude 1: L.I.F.E. Long]
Haha! Saki, L.I.F.E. Long, Breez Evahflowin', Akrobatik Detonate that like, “Yo. Check it. Yo. (Haha). Yo. (Haha). Yo. Yo
[Verse 2: L.I.F.E. Long]
This queen's Buddha merchant walks with talking monkey crane steps
On Detonator Recs. Make my way on
Force through air—similar to my man based in [?]
Beats us on. Head chop, tote, choke, then bath through smoke clouds
This studio bong fires
I'll be the wick to your bomb, that explosive live wire
Stronghold, Akrobatik, [we a chi bond?]. I brought the urn, [?]
We from NY to the B-oston city
L.I.F.E. Long, Breez Evahflowin' clutching chromes with a five-handed fisticuff grip (Haha. Stronghold)
Sound off, echo across globes [to solicit the hit?]
Crank this rap to crank levels to increase the head bop
Use fingertips to adjust Static's musical renditions of hip hop
We stay on our job, battle before dodging weak blows
Survive alone off the flesh of foes. “Hok2” words out
My [?] weave and leaving cats stuck, swinging nunchucks
The slim samurai releases throwing stars and flames
At accurate range at your stage
Shutting down your sound
[?] in Bean Town
[Interlude 2: Breez Evahflowin']
I think they know what we mean now. Huh. “So, what would you like with that? Some Saki?” Yes. It is good for my head. It will make me feel good. Pa** that sh**
[Verse 3: Breez Evahflowin']
I'm afraid so
He's back again—rappers, lay low
Like I tackled they toe, flipped they frame ‘round
Ill cats. None spat the same sound
I came to town through the harbor (What?), astounded by the drama I seen
Either color. I'm the surface of fiends
This unclean, uncut—what?!? As if I ain't dipping my stash
I got this bad beat whipping my a**
Presented with mad rhythm and cla**
So pa** the seamstress site
When it comes to dropping lines, this tight—aight?
Light the first dutch
Spit at your chest, watch it go burst, bust
Then pull at your heart like thoughts of your first crush
It's us against you, surface dweller
Strike your peanut with the trident of the submariner
The prince of the sea
Since I'mma be on the scene
For a minute ‘til this rap sh** finish
Stronghold in the Lord's most beautiful image. Scrimmages s**
Set it up for just show, dodo
Step to super n***as like Lobo
Every show we bless
We got the Stronghold—woah!—or strong O.B.S
You know me as the B, the R, the E, the E, the Z and
[Outro: Breez Evahflowin']
Dedicated to my brother L.I.F.E. Long. Yes. Because now my head feels good. And I will continue to rock... until...