Artist: Quez f/ Fit Album: Declaring Shenanigans!!! Song: Teaching Moments Typed by: @QuezThePoet And this here is Quez town Population 5000 outy and I'm gone You niggas kick rocks I hit the street stoned Like Owen Heart fall off the dome when the beet come on I'll challenge any emcee to compete come on Got heat spit fire then speak come on But it's a pity they won't so I got to go and get em In the city they call home and I'll still evict them Seal Team 6 em, covert operation Rhymes deeper than the US occupation of Iraq In the bush era ever so clever I'm on that Bomb sac purple hazed if you not then fall back Man you killing my high, and I'm killing the scene They may have the game sewn but I'm the split in the seam I am what's tipping the beam I am the chip on the shoulder Plus I'm hip hops Jon Stewart and Fit he's Steve Colbert And we come here to teach a little lesson how it's done here And show you how the rhyme can go in one ear And not come out the other That's how we knock them niggas out the box take cover Cause one year we'll be the only ones that you'll wanna hear And covet these records like they're something dear And never go back To that bullshit you listened to compared it now it's whack Ayyo, mic in my blunt hand; blunt in my ear whole world looking at me like I'm something to fear 'cos them brain scans light up in the front and the rear when these words stimulate you and them drums that you hear start blending and seeping under your skin the ending looks more like the beginning; hip-hop is thinning the herd and we done out MCs that think venom is leaking from their pen when they frequent the latest trends with nerve like Westboro accusations of sinning defending themselves as artists, bottom of ninth inning your light's dimming; still see the writing on the wall my lyrics the direct effect of dying for a cause you lying for applause then crying for the law when the picture gets painted for you, but iron's all they draw (New School Soldiers) I'm out of retirement for ya'll yelling "fire in the hole!" while you try and hold the wall Ayyo, MCs are empty or full of shit simply my pen bleeds and blood clots on tracks leave you in need of a transfusion stat. My operation table's full of rap labels and industry cats who spit fables in fact for racks on racks and mass appeal they'll get you all gassed up without your last meal suggest that ass chill when heads get hot vengeance is mine whether hip-hop is dead or not Yo, I'm crazy like a fox you crazy like fox news Or misinformed maybe well baby I drop jewels Let me paraphrase myself I spit a haiku That will crush ya whole 16 bars so very rude We making moves cross state lines to bury dudes On the mic leave a trail from here to Kalamazoo Them back to the avenue where we locally challenge crews Put some smoke in the air and even out our attitudes