MARS (Dream Team)

[Verse 1: Cormega] Though I walk through the Valley of Death I never got lost or took cowardice steps I move honorably, gained a lot of respect Saw of poverty but wouldn’t trade God for success In fact maybe I’m too advanced for crack babies My impact is similar to Basquiat paintings Visually fascinating, reality rap - not the fabricated We’ll have you anxious to sell weight Feds are patient like architects building cases The foundation is information I give in my lyrics ain’t easily assimilated, my pen is crazy I went from livin’ on the edge, to the realm of greatness Was willed here to exist if this is continuation of skill revealed in music we originated Then places full of napped hair melanated Descendants of slaves who found ways to elevate it [Verse 2: AZ] Gray’s anatomy, amazed with duality I inhale to propel through polarities Rap reality, trapper, actor or athlete Choose carefully, use vernacular accurately None after me, number four’s factually I’m the core conquistador of the faculty Bastard seed black fatigues Prestigious since Ellesses from the master’s league Master’s weed, placed on a mantle with the Jack Daniels Ruger strap with the wooden shellac handle Tap the sample of proof, cop and bounce Never announce financial, losers stop to count Lost but found was both in the same breath The souls remains fresh, every dose came correct To gain respect, hoodie on for the goons So fuck the fake cop that shot little Trayvon [Verse 3: Redman] I rep my city hard, I live for it I’m like a shotgun blast when I’m recordin' I bring down the house like Steve Martin You can smell weed when your boy pre-boarding Call me Delta, you can earn air miles Tracks like dirty laundry, I air it out Redman like a movie, I’m Paramount That’s why they imitating me, like Weird Al Boy, in the club I get budded Gilla House general, nigga don’t butt in Circle around the block, tell ‘em I’m coming It’s no VIP, I’m in like Bruh Man But I kick back and roll purp up, yes And write an ill flow when the surf's up, yes I stay grindin’ when the thirst’s up Hip-hop my bitch, watch how I work her! [Verse 4: Styles P] Short nights make the days longer And your problems start to weigh on ya Gotta pray when they prey on ya Feel kinda funny when the four pounds stays on ya You think it’s much better to hustle for European luxury, American muscle It’s bricks or bread in the duffel or two long guns Beware of the leather to touch you Thinkin’ is it better to crush you or just walk away Looking at your neck, put the hawk away The pain'll remain, the rain'll wash the chalk away My problems way [?] walk away Swimmin’ in the waters with the great white On a highway but you don’t see my brake light Seven days in a week, I’m on the 8th night On the dark side but I ain’t bring a safe light