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Intro:

Real skills, bronx styles, cypress ave meets cypress hill

Real hip-hop, bounce to this shit motherfuckers, read em!

You know whats up, shrap!

Commisioner gordon rock on

Tony touch yall rock on

Kid capri yeah rock on

Dj kenny coffin yo rock on

Verse 1:

In 199-sess, krs is in his peak-in

You are weak-in and collapse like mike, collect the beacon

You talk more ish than a cellullar

You cant last, just call me enema

Cos I give that ass-troid, heaven and mergatroid

Im that six, umm, microphone-holdin humanoid

Pyschological like sigmund freud

But I get annoyed cos these rappers have no brain

These hardcore rappers crack me up like cocaine

They got no skill or game

They sellin that commercial let me say it

"ask for minoxadil with rogaine"

True skills I will explain

The teacher breaks this whole shit down plain

Chorus:

West coast beef must dead, no-ho-ho

East coast beef must dead, no-ho-ho

Time for us to move ahead, no-ho-ho

B-boy hip-hop is dead, no

We must move ahead (x8)

Verse 2:

People always say when they see us, teach us

So we move by the inch, teachin only some of it, believe us

Hustlas and players and hos will never leave us

They been around since mary magdalene and jesus

Run wit it, pimps and players run the government

We been raised on a tonne of it thats why were lovin it

Bein a player is cool when you a kid

Until you get sent up for a eight year bid

Now you use and abuse and serve like hell

Til one day you are found face down upon the ground

Two shots to the dome, we need to switch quick

Dyin over what you players, I think, call a bitch

Im not a player hater cos I hate no one

But when you start destroyin hip-hop, you gots ta go, son

Government attack one whos brainwashed

Government attack two who is, yes, brain rinsed

Government attack three is for you and me

To constantly dream about the lex with bulletproof tints

Its pointless to think Im knockin ya

If you a pimp, be a pimp, Ill be a philosopher

So the....

Chorus

Verse 3:

Y-yes are the intelligent, we descend on every establishment

In the east or west, microphone grabbin it

Chess-to-chess, lyrical confrontation is dope

For the hip-hop nation, yet our hope, your scope

Is broader than who can kill who and who got the biggest crew? 

Thats why black people cannot seem to break thru

Its like crabs in a pot when one crab reaches the top

Other crabs wish to pull down and blood (bloods)

Im not understandin whats all the fuss

Hip-hop belongs to all of us

The east created it, the west decorated it

Learn the lesson, the unified picture is black expression

When black expression heights itself

It becomes black digression leadin to depression in health

Now question these ideas today

If hip-hop was destroyed could we blame the cia

Or the fbi, youd be a motherfuckin lie-

-er, li-ar, pants on fire-er

Conspiracy theories are contrise or we keep them on the shelf

We got no one to blame but ourselves

So....

Chorus

We must move ahead (x8)

All beef is dead!