To the Listeners

[Verse One: Rakim] It's to the listeners, for those that have a ear for this State of the art, engineered for the mix Eardrums are playing along to what I'm sayin you're singin a song Stevie Blass on the keyboard, swingin along But you don't have to dance, play it cool and listen My DJ's mixin, and I'll do the quizzin Cause who is number one if not best then better Here's a hint: the 18th letter The rhymes is sportable, microphone is portable For any immortal man, swords is not affordable Never take a loss cause I'm hard to beat I ain't cheap but don't sell me a dream I don't sleep I'm Paid in Full, so save the bull This ain't a stick-up, you don't have to wave until You feel Sure, and you want more then wipe your sweat Cause I just wanted to see how hype you could get Cause when I came in the door steppin hard enough to shake the floor I just started but the others can't make no more Runnin out of beats breaks and out of time If I was gone, you'd be runnin out of rhymes I prove records don't have to be long If it's understood and the story is strong You can speak out and hold the crowd as prisoners The people is peepless, it's to the listeners [Verse Two: Rakim] I'm the Lord, for somethin you can absorb Try and control and be cautious but the cuts and the chords Make me deeper than down, I make the crowd, crowd around People are peepless, cause the soloist found Phrases, thoughts, made by the R of course One thing I do is keep em different, and far from yours You keep talkin, when will all the damage be done? You say you're rulin but when I'm in the place you don't come Maybe you're waitin, to see what I'm makin One more style gets taken, then I'mma be breakin If the patterns are causes, piano is soft But make it hard for you to start, where I left off You find yourself lost til the point is across You hit reverse to rewind it, that's when you hit the pause I set the scene, first you hear mixin Then the microphone fiend's in effect, still listenin? Pay close attention, never before mentioned Listen up I got a brand new invention Made from a musician it's notes are played crisp But listeners listen to what I wrote on a disc Copywritten but still bitten they almost sound like Almost pumpin, but it ain't down like A record's supposed to sound, watch as it go around Records are broken, smashed into the ground That ain't My Melody, brothers keep runnin up and tellin me Others are trying to flow smooth and steadily Potholes are left in my path then I crash and bruise Whoever refuse and cruise right past em Cause I just left to do it for easy whatever Death, till I get back you better stay in step At the speakers you'll stare, if I was there your description is Letters full of poetical messages, this is for the listeners