At the Helm

[Hook] Life is a blast when you know what you're doin Best to know what you're doin 'fore your life get ruined Life is a thrill when your skill is developed If you ain't got a skill or trade, then shut the hell up [Verse 1: Del the Funky Homosapien] My rhymes is like droppin your head on cement Crackin' it open hopin to make a dent; I'm hell-bent on Resurrection, per-fection Lesson #1: rekindle the essence Rap ain't about bustin caps and fuckin bitches It's about fluency with rhymin ingenuity All of this is new to me, see I peep rhymes With scrutiny, under a microscope I walk a tightrope A thin line between insanity and sanity Mixed with a little vanity, boostin the morality With Hiero hospitality, soon to strike it rich Like calories, salaries, ahh sounds like a plan And, I will expand hip-hop as well Might even kick a little impromptu, to stomp you Weaklings, speaking things foreign to the human ear That, you will fear now, whether you like it or not Blood clots on your little life on the situation And on the stipulations... the shit you wastin Time on you pawns, it was planned like that But we can fight back, like David Horowitz And say we want no more of this And put it in a cyrogenic status Replace it with the latest in technology Hip-Hop policies that demolish ya follies Olly olly oxen free, get off of me You can't see this, your defeatist attitude'll Get you nowhere fast, I tend to my task cause [Hook x2] [Verse 2: Del] Don't even start on the next man, let's scan Your situation, you still have no patience Flip on niggas, rob niggas, even family All the way up to your moms -- you can't stand to be In the house, but when you kicked out you beggin To come back in then the same old skit happens You say you rappin but you don't know the essence Just ho slap and bustin caps is your message Plus every time I put some scrill down, you steal it If that's your way of teachin me a lesson I don't feel it Your raps reflect your life and that's a shame Cause the way you're soundin, you must think that it's a game I can see if you came from the ghetto, but you came From the Meadow -- you really need to let that go You got no respect for hip-hop, and you tryin to rhyme Biding your time and I find it a crime I even tried to bury the hatchet man,cause we all African You wanna be a rapper? Start practicin', you can't even flow right Spend most of your time fuckin hoes, getting in fights Hangin out, with no mission in life And you're missing your life, and you'll be missing out on life I won't sweat you for that G you stole Cause if you're still alive, I'll be there to see you fold Told ya! [Hook x2] [Verse 3: Del] You could be a rapper, an actor, a gun clapper A comedian providing laughter, as a bachelor A pastor of a chapter, a doctor, a lawyer A fireman, a hired hand, whether boy or girl It's your world. your future you control it Whatever you do early on, is how you mold it I record it, sold it, told it to you Mr. Del wouldn't tell you nothin that ain't true, because [Hook] Think you're able to label the Hiero sound? You still haven't found a comparable variable You think you're able to label the Hiero sound? You still haven't found a comparable variable All you marks... YEAH! This the freshest shit and you know it