[Guru]
  Ah so now ya got me pissed off, blast off lift off
  Time for me to twist off a vocal fist off
  into your domepiece, Homepeace, I heard your chick wants to bone me
  I get, wild like rugby, respected like Bugsy
  Don't even ask me, cause I'm livin lovely
  Born to succeed, foes bleed, true indeed
  The oral combat will romp that, your one of my seeds
  when I first, busted on the scene
  Nigga, you knew I had more than a gangsta lean
  I mean my lean is gangsta though so check it
  I'll stick an MC for his spot and sign in blood on his wack record
  Boo-ya-ka, to your face as I ruin ya
  Clown ya, dumbfound ya, while I'm screwin the
  fuck out cha girl as she steps into my world
  I'm not the tallest, but that ass I'll polish
  And if the hooker runs her mouth she gets cut off
  But then you'll sweat her, cause like my leather you're butter soft
  Your style stinks kid, ya garbage
  And if you keep talkin shit, I'ma make ya pay homage
  Cause the G to the U to the R-U, came too far to
  let you slide through, rhymes will scar you
  And who the fuck are you anyway?
  I catch more wreck in a minute than if you rhyme for ten days
  Throw the cash in the pot
  You betta dash nigga, cause I'm blowin up the spot
  
  "I'm bout to blow the fuck up"
  * Premier scratches *
  
  [Guru]
  No ex-capin the explosion, those who are dozin, I close in
  Set the thermostat at sub-zero, they're frozen
  Extreme temperatures from my mic, stuns amateurs
  Unable to conquer the Gang, I ain't mad at cha
  Peace to Jeru, the Big Shug and the Group Home
  Keepin it real, no playin niggaz or chrome
  I'm way past the kid shit, brothers already did shit
  You want some props? Yo dog, here's a biscuit
  I'm a smooth nigga and my groove's bigga, move nigga
  And we don't care who's wit cha, got the picture?
  And you don't wanna hear the burners go pop
  Gang Starr motherfucker, what, blowin up the spot
  
  "I'm bout to blow the fuck up"
  * Premier scratches *
  
  [Guru]
  I go from one format then switch to the next
  Reflex sets the pitch vocals rip through projects
  Crazy shouts are heard all around
  Cause the GangStarr sound carries more weight per pound
  I got some brand new Timbs, so emcees sing new hymns
  You betta repent, come correct, represent
  or get stomped, smacked and slapped, cap peeled back
  I got you open, and now you cling to my sac
  Get off, hands off, stay off, you're way off
  You rookie motherfuckers it's the finals not the playoffs
  I'll break you up into particles, to small pieces
  Because your brain is miniscule
  You little fool, come learn the tools of the trade
  I made the rules so go to school and get played
  Just when you're thinkin that your jam is hot
  Up steps the niggaz who be blowin up the spot