Equipped and packed with a funky jam Finished the touch, hope for the best Behind my back, uds the band Forcin' a priest to bless my cassette Dealin' with armies of unbelievers Leave us, deceive us, with rolled gold Though the bubble-'o-soap ain't bursting Who'll relieve us of the burden My style's getting old Hold a banner, panel of fans nod head Judge unanimous for my interpretation Ten for my manner of speech my man I should be happy as a clam I feel perspiration, sweat from my neck to my hands Hands shake, though I hold a mojo-rope I know the big dome heard my jam But his eyes are fixed on the other side of the globe Too much pressure is too much I tap a fan's back to be my bro' While the rhymes are bust, it's you I trust Just say a little prayer for my demo