The Mission

{*scratching for ten seconds*} Madlib turn the strings up My knuckleheads, put them things with the beams up You won't need your heat this time around I spits fire, it's like the rhymes are rounds In a big ass block of the bitch-ass niggas Who wan' hate, cause they don't get cash with us But they really on Jay and Mad dilznick If you want the truth then that's just it Them sick cause I slipped they chick this magic stick We all act, can we get them balls back I keeps it simple as well as complicated Jaylib for service, just compensate us I'm tryin to cop the Maker's and hop up in the latest whips Caked rockin gators It's P.I., D.I. and L.I.B Better know what the hell I bring, it's fire {*scratching for a bit*} Yo, wait, now let me speak on these journalists Only the ones who need to learn and listen Before they criticize verses that burns kitchens Live from the land of Hearns and Pistons You heard me~?! Beats and rhymes so dirty Play it too loud and you'll feel a burn where you pissin Up, my nigga turn the motherfuckin strings up The ultimate link-up, about to cha-ching up Jaylib baby don't forget the name How you want it, Beemer four-fifth or Range Come see the Dilla lay with the fifth Maybe you can write an article about how Jay play with them whips And who said producers ain't supposed to rap They don't want the Ruger to bang well close your traps Better not run them jibs or fibs no more We pullin plugs so haters ("can't live no more") {*scratching to end*}