Ever get the feeling no one's got your back
Caught up in themselves livin' lies besides the fact
Somehow you're going on an opposite track
As we recover from another social heart attack

You think you see between the lines
But you can't see through dollar signs

So sick and tasteless now
Immature and faceless how
Can I even sleep at night you ask
You say you're a pacifist
Instead you wave your fist
And all the while it [bad word] the end again

Make up your mind cause I can't decide
You think uniqueulism makes you dignified
You can't see with half opened eyes
You think you're standing up instead you're falling far behind

What I do is what I choose which makes it my decision
If your life was a book your story would be fiction

Nevertheless am I dressed for the occasion
It's number 32 now here's the situation
If the beat moves your feet then don't change the station
Pack your bags cause we're leaving on a permanent vacation
Well, I'm a disaster
microphone master
Put on the tape, I'll rock your ghetto blaster
It's not about the money, cars, hotels, or resorts
About sweating all the [bad word] in the biker shorts
I'm Hot Chocolate and you'll see [bad word] late
Cause I'm always making time to make your girlie feel great
And I'm Bizzy from way down town
I'm known to rock a mic like a king with a crown
When I'm on top I'm gonna borrow that bootie
Hustling deals like Micky Macoote
When I wake up I like a pound of bacon
Start off the day with my arteries shaking

ROCK!
It's what were all about it's what we live for
C'mon and shout it out [x4]