(I'm glad you all made it to my show By the way:? music is in the house Understandin' microphone mathematics It's Lord Quas droppin' shit like some horses Imitatin' your mindstate have you split like divorces of courses The new breed fuckin' up the mainstream Plus we gon' gain cream Keep doin' the same thing Elevatin' styles beyond explication Turned up the notch increase the amplification Madlib got ya bumpin' in your upper story While I drop the microphone mathematics Like when I used to smack chicks It's like some people ain't got no mental sight You try keepin' it real (Yet you should try keepin' it right It's understandin' microphone mathematics) x4 Quas, drop that number thing I got five brothers we lived up on 9th street On the 22nd of December My pops shot 6 cops, I remember In the 12th grade thinkin' about million dollar riches On the 3-4, I broke about a dozen mics On the 1, 2s, I took out a hundred crews 365 days to a year, subtract it off your life In 2000, that's the end of strife It's like some people ain't got no mental sight You try keepin' it real (yet you should try keepin' it right) (It's understandin' microphone mathematics)