I rap for days and days, my weapon sprays and sprays I'm bringing out the best like Hellmann's mayonnaise And it's clear that I'll rip ya, you're Miracle Whip An impostor, the data's empirical, skip All that hogwash about about your austere lack of wit You mistake for some sort of a lyrical gift You wanna waste time with those fibs? Go ahead I'm writing at night when my kids go to bed Grooving to beats, perfecting the rhymes Got ya moving your feet as I beckon your minds To join the movement with me, new directions to climb As we're cruisin' to leads, no more second this time Gotta stay focused, gotta block out distractions When I wasted too much time I sold my copy of Madden On eBay, and started playing this beat on replay Then raised some more money to make sure that I got Heath paid (Heath McNease) Josh paid me 60 grand, now I'm ballin' Ludacris status, hooligans now let's get to brawlin' The Irish kid can give a punch as good as he can take one Type of kid to spike the punch as good as he can make some Odelay, 401K, Roth IRA Blowing up your Kia Optima, I'm reppin' IRA Junior Gong Marley's in my Mazda Glock 9 millimeter's in my lap, I'm on my Serg E Blocca If you don't like my kind of speech, you can take a flyin' leap She kinda sweet so I charger, Ryan Leaf Dan Fouts button hook to Kellen Winslow Useless like a dude installing Helen Keller's windows Tell 'em where the wind blows, that's where I'll be talkin' smack You can tell your mama that I'll meet her at the Office Max Reverend T.D. Bakes, homie you should call me that Sprinkle Rod Parsley on that zig zag and honor that Draft after draft, I edit and revise Write a half paragraph, forget it and resize And rewrite - Aftermath - once I've said it, your demise The flag's at half-mast, tombstone read it: "Here he lies" And your family, all dressed in black, sings Amazing Grace The casket stays in place (I rap for days and days and days) And I'll be writin' away until he night turns to day I'm like a sty in your eye and that sty's gonna stay Suffice it to say, that's the price that you pay And try as as you may you can't pry it away I hone my craft, writing raps at my lunchtime You're Tony Romo and I'm Tony Horton in crunch time But there's more to this game than a few decent punchlines They say "practice makes perfect" and when I practice I want mine To be polished and tight, home run ball is in flight I've been rappin for days and days, let's call it a night You can call the freakin' police on me and Heath McNease Too much dope in one place, they need to clean the streets We're the whole enchilada, you're just beef and cheese Weakened knees from weeks and weeks spent sleepin' - Zs Sound Scientists on this beastly beat Leasin' beats for free featuring Heath and me It's a triple-edged sword, we make ya bleed in threes Like Arnold said, we can kill it if the creature bleeds

(Rkitect) I got these notes by the throat, Rkitect, have mercy My sweet 16s got teams giving me jerseys I'm subterranean, maybe you might've heard of me My catalog has rocked more cribs than a nursery Hands in the air, it's a burglary I've got a way with words, putting verbs in the infirmary In a mic booth, getting prepped for surgery Our culture's okay without a God and that's hurting me Freedom for certain when the curtain was torn in half And now I'm covered like the Lord's playing cornerback I got a sinister plan To snatch our music and our culture out of enemy's hands So raise the standard cause the fans demand it Grab this mic and rock it like NASA planned it Y'all went pop like a pimple burst I'm waiting on the return of the King like I grew up in Middle Earth Chorus: Rkitect, Nomis, Poltergeist Jones Can't see us but we'll move you with our cold-as-ice tones Got better rhyme schemes than you overhyped clones Who are supposedly kings of these open mic thrones Empty rhymes from empty minds in the shallow end of skill I'm talented and ill, disemboweling em at will The food chain of hip-hop, you're balancing the field You're a mouse, I'm a hawk, and my talons'll get you killed If I had a rap name you'd call me Poltergeist Jones Can't see me but I'll move ya with my cold-as-ice tones Colder than ice cream from Oberweis cones Got better rhyme schemes than you overhyped clones Think of all the lives I might wreck just doing a mic check I have a way with words but you perceived it as a life threat When I said "watch your mouth, get up off the couch" All you heard was metal objects getting sharpened in the slaughterhouse Chorus You spit basic rhymes on those hip-shaking grinds You weren't built for this game, homie, quit wasting time Your dumb rhymes and punchlines were nightmarish flops Came to open mic night, your jokes were weaker than Carrot Top's Extinct like Triceratops, why do you share your thoughts? I'ma teach you a lesson that you'll wish that your parents taught Don't step on the court throwing airballs and errant shots Wearing Crocs with a pair of socks, shouting, "Pantera rocks!" The ultimate paradox, people will stare and mock You had your fair share of the spotlight, am I not right? It's glarin' hot It's a fight between bear and fox, don't know why we're comparin' shots That's like trying to compare a pair of Nikes to your pair of Crocs Chorus (NomiS) It ain't just me, but I sing for the fam bam You need to get on first before I swing for the grand slam Life's a Bloodsport, finna spring into Van Damme You rappers back to bed, finna bring in the Sandman You're line dancing and you're singing the "Can Can" So tap tap puppet in the sling of The Man's hand This life change, it ain't a thing that a band can You want to be Drake, but homie nobody can stand Stan And after the Sandman is Venom Looking for a host, should've known the Symbiote was in him Spitting "give me dough, plenty Blow in your denim" Without any coke in them, folks spoke of condominiums and winning, nope Sending hope, pierce the soundwaves of sin I found ways of ending those idiots and sound slaves who pity us Disgusting and hideous, like I want to be you Honest NomiS, I was born to be true

Reminiscing on the good times back in the day Before I ever heard Eminem rappin' with Dre I'd go out to the mailbox for the new Labklik tape Put that in the boombox and blast it for days They say hip-hop was born from jazz in a way And jazz was the product of African slaves Whose masters would take Communication in all of its facets away Including instruments, so they had to have new ones fashioned and made They'd capture and play with the scraps of the day Nevertheless, the amazing fact is with matchless passion they played It's with that kind of passion that rappers should spray We're legitimate artists, not actors and fakers We scrap and we scrape our pads and our paper Till a match for its maker is accurately portrayed Reminiscing on the good times back in the day When we worked twice as hard for less than half of the pay Five bucks an hour, I was stackin' the cake Summer sidewalks were hot enough for crackin' an egg And fryin' it up, it was tryin' and tough Workin' outside like I was Shia LaBeouf Diggin' Holes in heat, it was dull indeed I hated pullin' weeds, but a bro's in need Winter sidewalks, I would shovel snow for cheap Moved from Cali to Chicago, thinkin' "Whoa, it's deep!" Throwin' snow from the driveway to the frozen street Woe is me, can't feel a thing from toe to knee Let me wrap it up, baby, nice and neat Put some pressure on it, baby, ice and heat Facin' straight ahead, baby, eyes and feet Press play on that Walkman, baby, ride the beat Reminiscing on the good times back in the day I only turned on the TV if they happened to play A rapper who paid More attention to skill than the cash and the fame I asked Dad for the remote and he said, "Be my guest" So I ran to the store and bought a blank VHS No satellite, no DVR for replay then I set a timer on the VCR for 3 AM They played a track off of Factors of the Seven by Grits In between two videos about weapons with clips Reppin' the Crips or the Bloods And the drugs and havin' sex with the chicks I was assessin' the sick state of hip-hop Grits dropped something fresh in the mix It was a blessing to this young impressionable kid So I took notes in hopes that the lesson would stick I haven't stopped writing since so I'm guessin' it did

This is the life and times of a kid writing rhymes And reciting lines after a hard day fighting crimes The only time in my life I laid my eyes on a gun This kid Mark whipped one out and I called 9-1-1 A few minutes later, at my house, the cops pulled up Asked, "How do we find him?" I said "Look for a bowl cut, 14 years old with a face full of pock marks Not sure where he is now, but I doubt that he got far He was standin' right here with the gun where you cops parked" Came to find he went 3 or 4 blocks, barfed From the nerves, the cop parked on the curb Then he pulled out his gun and became harsh with his words That's when Mark saw me in the back of the squad car To this day I don't know if the gun was real or not, Mark If it wasn't, please accept my apologies But you never know if these kids are real Gs or Ali Gs Chorus: Middle class is the hood we from Bowling and laser tag, good clean fun Rap on the walkman, cards in the bike spokes Riding around in neighborhoods full of white folks (Playdough) Yo, your boy had a Huffy, spray painted black Had a couple pegs, threw my homie on the back And we heading to my room, trying to peep the new Thrasher So we could learn them new skate tricks a little faster It's all downhill, livin' without a care in life Powell-Peralta and a Tommy Guerrero knife Red skin, white skin, brown or black, kid Nobody where I'm from was even rappin' Except me, like the hometown hero, right But the whole town thought I was a weirdo, right Like, "This is a fad that's gonna pass The Jesus Freak geek takin' his Bible to class" Good pass, work on your J and shoot hoops Teenybopper getting paid in my youth group The biggest troublemaker made in the youth group That's still the way I am today, like I'm too cute Chorus We all went to this church called Fountain of Life We'd eat pizza and drink Dew from the Mountain all night We'd have overnight lock-ins and we'd listen for God's call Bible study till midnight, then we played dodgeball Like a sweat lodge, y'all, it was hot as a mug Slept wherever we could on couches, ottomans, rugs Never got into drinks, never got into drugs Only fought with the ink, never fought with the slugs Shoppin' like thugs, I was rockin' the Fubu You grew up the 90s, "dawg," you know that was you, too CDs and cassette tapes before there was YouTube Landlines and pagers before there was bluetooth Baggy jeans and jerseys, size double XL Wigger status was never too subtle to tell Using Zs on my plurals like it was trouble to spell I probably spelled "y'all" Y-A-W-L Chorus

What up, folks? I'm tired of being the butt of jokes Let's rewind back, before the whole thing went up in smoke Riding bikes with baseball cards bent up in spokes Nineteen four score plus five, when those poor sport suckas choked He got hoodwinked for sure, but you can't blame Denkinger For game 7, when you got shut out by 11 Like your whole team was drunk on some blackberry kamikazes You can't beat em even with Jack, Terry, Tom and Ozzie Patrolling your infield, like bugs on a windshield You got splattered, tattered and burned till your skin peeled So what? The dude's wrong, it's time to move on I'm so tired of all this crying, like a new mom Like Joaquin Andujar, anger raging to a climax And Redbird Nation STILL ignores the cut and dry facts Still think you're the champs, still think you won '85 It's not Denkinger's fault the Cards hit .185 CHORUS: All the fellas shuck and all the ladies jive The good old days, 1985 The good old days, you suckas can't beat the Royals The good old days, when they ruled like O'Doyles Jack and Ozzie led the Cardinals in papermakin' But they looked like fools against Leibrandt and Saberhagen Who pitched outta their minds, outta this world like George Jetson You just got schooled by Frank White and George Brett, son Time to stop living in the past like a war vet, son Let us enjoy the trophy cause we probably won't ever get one Even Royals fans will admit that he got the call wrong But the logic that lost it has been flawed all along No self-respect left, umpire's getting death threats Like it's his fault you lost control and now the bed's wet He was clearly out, even blind homers can't deny it But watch the game tape, at the very least they woulda tied it Study the game tape, I'm not lyin', son Don's responsible at the most for the tying run And not the game winner, get off the paint thinner Three decades under your skin, that's an insane splinter Chorus The whole of your roster was full of impostors Couldn't pick themselves up after game six, the loss hurt Played like a flock of hung over and sloshed birds Time to man up and just admit that you lost, turds Even if he's out, Worrell still blows the win Baseball 101, don't be so dumb, no offense When I say "no offense" I really hope the blow softens When I say "no offense" what I really mean is no OFFense Game 7, KC scoring early and often And that homer from Motley was the nail in the coffin On the bright side, at least your team's won something since And employed managers with at least some common sense Who can do more than sacrifice bunt in a pinch With one out when they're down by ten runs in the sixth Think it's rough for you? We've suffered through a dozen layoffs 28 years, we haven't even been back to the playoffs Chorus

(The Runaway) I didn't get into this job for curriculum buzz words I want to be an empathetic man who loves nerds Enough to let em know that it all gets better Mr. Corbin in his Cosby sweater Role model, I play it full throttle Please raise your hand and I'll give you a turn Canadian hip-hop fans, please discern I've got a lot to say, but really a lot to learn All my friends are like, "Josh, what happened here? I thought you were a teacher, now you got a rap career?" The teaching thing, it's an actual job, see The rap doesn't pay, so it's more like a hobby Monday through Friday I'm teaching mathematics To rooms full of Call of Duty and Pac-man addicts Do some math facts, kids, you gotta practice Till like a Chapman fastball you're the fastest Who's Chapman? Aroldis, I'm the captain of all this I'll flex on any topic, man, I'm rappin' 'bout small kids Who carry gum, nickels and dimes in their wallets To settle disputes, heads or tails, man? You call it They haunt my sleep, nearly every night dreamin' In a cold sweat, I wake up to my wife screamin' Askin', "Honey, what's wrong? Hon! Honey! Hon!" I said, "They can't tell me the square root of 121!" (The Runaway) In mathematics I find it hard to divide The time between lesson prep and writing dope lines In English I'm thinking of ways to connect The poetry of old with the poets they respect In science I'm applying laws of relativity Trying to write rhymes with jaw-dropping ability Equations, experiments, and don't forget sonnets Sew it all together like it's home economics I'm a man in a woman's world, lonely and depressed That's why I write rhymes at lunch break and recess Under water, trapped in a little cage swimmin' Surrounded by middle-class, middle-aged women It's not even close, outnumbered by leaps and bounds Every time I dare to step foot in the teacher's lounge They look at me weird when I eat some pulled pork Like I might as well stab my own tongue with a dull fork Their power is real, think how it must feel To be surrounded by people eating salads as meals But they gotta snack on some hummus and crackers first And talk about Amazing Race and The Bachelor Tonight's the big night, Grey's Anatomy It's the season finale, how amazin' that'll be Let's get together, ladies, make it happen, please Let's celebrate tonight with drinks at 8 at Applebee's

This is the story of my high school years 
Ladies, grab some tissues and prepare to wipe your tears There was this girl that I liked, her name was Bethany Hunter I’d just been dumped, and some guy had just dumped her It was a match made in heaven, some rebounding rejects 
But I gave myself no chance of her dating me next I was still gun-shy, had to stay on my toes And she felt the same way, still we got really close We hung out together, like all day every day She got a job where I worked, and she took minimum pay She said “I love my job, I don’t care how much it pays me” I gave her rides to work, and she flirted like crazy I didn’t mind moving fast food down the line with her All that mattered to me was that I got to spend time with her Made a pros and cons list, what would happen if we dated? Looking back now, I can’t believe how long we waited We were basically best friends for a good eighteen months Couldn't take it any longer, one day we were eating lunch At Pizza Hut, and she wore a tight yellow sweater And I couldn’t stop thinking how every day since I met her She got more and more beautiful and we got along better And in my back pocket I held a handwritten love letter I’d been working on for weeks, just waiting for the right time To make sure that her old wounds had healed despite mine Falling more in love, every day, everywhere we went And I finally gave the note to her on February 10th The note basically said, “You’re a girl, so I doubt you, I’m still scared and hurt, but there’s something about you, How deep does this go? How strong does this grow? How many times can I tell myself no? How long can I deny it? How long can I be quiet? There’s clearly a connection, would it really hurt to try it? How long can I tell myself that you’re just a phase When I keep telling the phase to go away but it stays?
 How long can I wait if this phase never dies? I see something inside of your beautiful eyes Is it something I want? Is it something I love? I’m afraid to find out, but what am I afraid of? I’m afraid to get hurt, for girls love’s just a game But that wasn’t you, please prove you’re not all the same” So I gave her the note, and she liked it a lot Said she felt the same way, so we gave it a shot She said “I like you, you like me, we get a long great” And four days later, we went out on our first date It was Valentine’s Day, she called me up on my pager Said “Let’s go somewhere simple and cheap, nothing major” It felt natural, no hidden feelings suppressed her Or me, it felt free, with no need to impress her A weight had been lifted, and with it the pressure So I grabbed a couple bucks from the top of my dresser I took her to McDonalds, and that swept her away We got ice cream, held hands, and we called it a day My knees got weak, I could barely stand I could barely speak the question, but now I’m a married man It’s a privilege just to know you, no matter what we go through Through seasons of change, the new you and the old you I've got volumes of knowledge from the lessons you’ve taught me I love all your dance moves that our daughters have copied And now we’ve got the first decade under our belt Through thick and thin, nothing’s changed the way that we felt Still in our opening scene, we’ll be together till the credits roll Think back, we were just kids when we met, it’s incredible Now we’ve got kids, fat tax returns, state and federal Spend money, make money back, let the cheddar roll Bethany, you’re the best for me, your beauty takes the breath from me I’ll give you my all, please accept nothing less from me I never understood why you were ever impressed with me But I won’t argue with God for so incredibly blessing me It’s tattooed on my arm and engrained in my heart I meant what I said, I said “Till death do us part.”

Between these four cold walls the lights flicker Two old dogs staring to see which one bites quicker And which one flinches first, and which one’s pinch is worse They both know nothing short of perfection quenches thirst So they choose their words accordingly In the battle rap annals they’ll be viewed immortally There’s an aura of confidence, it’s just common sense To walk with some swagger and a sense of accomplishment
 They got people pullin' over, stopping to mull it over Waiting for the next move like the top of a rollercoaster And who knows which way to go? The stars are sensational The hunger is building and the crowd is insatiable They bob their heads, drops of sweat hit the pine floor As the masters of ceremonies come through tha side door
 One had a permanent look on his face that said “I’m bored” The other had a permanent smile on his face like Hines Ward Whatever it takes, they aim to intimidate Try to get in their head, make em fall for the dinner bait This runs in their blood, this is the stuff that invigorates One word could determine the loser’s and winner’s fates Rapping circles around any emcee in the fifty states So between em they could rap fifty states worth of figure eights Their minds flow and their rhymes go wherever the beat goes They defeat foes with ease and keep hitting like Pete Rose All ears are on edge, are rhymes hittin' or missin? Not a soul in the crowd is in a sittin' position The vocalists focus on dopeness, the hope is no blemishes They go blow for blow, so no interest diminishes Toe to toe till the end like slow-mo photo finishes They feed off the crowd’s energy like photosynthesis Outside playing it cool, inside throwing conniption fits Knowing that one slip means they’ve lost to their nemesis He was gifted and blessed, he lifted his chest He breathed heavily and then he zipped up his vest His nerves were on edge but he ripped it his best He grabbed hold of that script and he flipped it and left In school he used to copy and they’d rip up his test
 Now others copy him when he rips it his best They're bitin’ his rhymes, they're bitin’ his style He’s gettin’ famous now, time to whiten his smile Writin’ a mile a minute, all the while he’s in it Annihilitaing his opponents to definitively win it Make him feel out of place, like a slackjaw slim thuggin' Possibly related to some Hacksaw Jim Duggan Possibly the spawn of some backwashin’ husband Who married his backwater fat bald twin cousin And finally, he breathed a sigh of relief When the only look left his enemy’s eye was defeat

Ace out, about to take your ham-and-eggin’ face out I’ll nertz so fast that everybody in the place shouts And pees their pants, now momma has to spray Shout On the stains, I’ll take you out of the game Nertzin’ so fast I’ll have you shouting my name Preceded by insults, followed by obscenities And pitiful requests like “Let someone else try winnin’, please!” Sour as a lemon squeeze, the men cry and the women weep They finally all quit like a shotgun murder victim’s knees Hurtin’ for a nertin’, that makes you nerty needers I can nertz before you turds can run thirty meters Alert the nerdy tweeters on twitter you’re quitters and dirty cheaters Sitting there trying to catch me with a false nertz When you’re the ones with tricks up the sleeves of y’alls shirts You doofuses two-fist it, you’re limp-wristed, I’m loose-wristed Time to call your mommies, time for them to pay you visits You two-fistin’ Tommies Now apologize to mommy for the extra load of laundry With the pants you peed through I'm mighty like the Ducks in D-2 Speaking of sequels, you're Speed 2, I'm T-2 You could tie one hand behind my back and I’d still beat you Got a lower chance of beating me than reading ancient Hebrew You talk big but your talk is cheap When you’re slower than a flock of sheep Trying to cross the street while riding Rick Ross’ beat Meanwhile, I'm faster than Santana Moss’ feet Your loss’ll eat at you so bad you’ll have a loss of sleep Turn and toss and think about how you sat back while I nertzed And how your game’s about as lame as Matt Leinart’s You ace out, I’ll throw down a 2-3-4 ricochet Grown man business, baby, maybe I’m too quick to play With you kids that are slower than the ex-wife of Nick Lachey Slower than Billy Butler and Prince Fielder in a sack race By the time I'm done beatin' you down you'll need a back brace I slam the cards down, hard-hittin’ like Mark Whiten You're jarred, sittin’ there, sit and stare like you’re star-stricken Your arm’s gettin’ too close, I’ll burn ya like charred chicken And embarrass you so bad you’ll have red skin like Mark Rypien You wanna beat me? Throw your plans out the door You’re worse than the haircut on Anton Chigurh It’s not natural, your lack of skill defies order Like Marvo and the judges who denied Eli Porter You have no talent, you’re no challenge, you’re inferior When you come to the table we can all see the fear in ya
 By the time you finally win we’ll be at Heritage Cafeteria Wastin’ away, we'll be wastin’ our days Eating Salisbury steaks and gravy on plates Muttering through our dentures, like, “How great does this taste?” Pouring cottage cheese on our raisins and grapes Orange juice, liver and onions with our grape nuts and eggs Salads with big croutons, prunes and Fig Newtons And a bowl on the side just to put our grapefruit in Reminiscing on the days we were nertz rap prodigies Before we felt the need to mix all foods with cottage cheese Back in the day when the odds of these pods of peas Saying nertz were even worse than winning the lottery And they whined “stop him please! There’s just gotta be Somebody somehwere out there to end Josh’s streak Somebody, anybody, get him off his peak We don’t care who, so grab your local office geek Who’s seen every single episode of Dawson’s Creek Or the topless freak who's downtown offering Prophecies on the corner, get him off the street! You’re like Florida Marlins fans shouting, “Boston stinks!” And “You’re blowing the game, ump, get off your knees!” When in reality you're losing cause you're awful, jeez Please, you jabronis need to stop and think For a minute, "What's my bickering accomplishing? I know it felt really good to give that awesome zing, But he came back even harder, dangit, Josh is mean!" Fellas, please, enough of the jealousy I've smoked ya so much I'm getting yella teeth Maybe I'm embellishing, but I'm simply relishing In victory and polishing my trophy hella clean I've rocked you like Helloween, let me wrap you up like cellophane And trap you like a stapler inside Jim Halpert's Jello thing

Roll the windows down, fill the tank with gasoline We 'bout to go to Kansas City, where the grass is green Draining plates, gaining weight, what is happening? That was only the beginning of my gradual fattening Once upon a time when my body mass was lean I weighed 120 pounds and subscribed to magazines I used pogs for bets and listened to cassettes And played outside with friends instead of on the internet As a result, I was thin as a rubber tree As time went on, I got progressively chubby, see As an adult, I made an amazing discovery I fell in love with smoked meats, and they fell in love with me Chorus: Let's go to Kansas City, get the world's best barbecue Time to eat, let's get some meat, perhaps a carb or two You might get a little heavier, go one size up in pants But you'll be a whole lot happier, so get on up and dance When it comes to barbecue, KC doesn't mess around People argued for years about who's the best in town Bryant's, Gates, and Jack Stack all went toe to toe Until 1996 when the new guy stole the show Now the best a man can get is found at Oklahoma Joe's Where bros will overdose until they're full and comatose So when we're in town, we hit up Joe's whenever we can Standard meal for me - Mountain Dew and a Z-Man But the meal's not complete until you get a bag of fries Head on over to The K, watch the Royals shaggin' flies Then after the game, go to Jack Stack for lamb ribs It's BYOMB - Bring Your Own Man Bib Chorus I wore a pair of size 28 jeans and ripped it After eating a meal of fries, baked beans, and brisket We all used to go to Fat Charlie's on Blue Ridge Hole in the wall, made us feel like cool kids The best-kept secret when you needed a cheap fix Right before the game, roll up to Arrowhead with Chiefs tix Cheap chips and a sandwich, open up the box Tailgate in the parking lot with 101 The Fox This meat's been cooking all day, steady and slow Now we got Mitch and Lenny on setting the tone Asking Kansas City if they're ready to go Don't even ask, homeboy, you already know Chorus