[Intro]
(Remy St. Clair: Professional writers)
(Tao the Rez: Something beautiful)
(Konundrum: Do my part)
(M.Langston: Revolution)
(Quisdabeast: Veteran, hiphop soldiers)
(R.U.N.T.215th: Radical contingency)
[Verse 1: Fellowman]
Gimme a beat that's militant, gimme a minute to chill with it
I'll light it like a filament, ride it like a Thai elephant
Five elements, hit 'em with the message, hit 'em with the elegance
Hit 'em with the relevance, shut the mouths up on these pelicans
They spit for checks with 0s, they spit for sex with hoes
They claiming street, but really sweeter than some breakfast rolls
My team professionals, y'all took the test and froze
Say you rep ghettos, but then you measure goals by records sold
It's cold, that's why wack Cracker-Jack prize rap guys get black eyes
Hijacking my culture, trying to capitalize
And bastardize this shit with flashy lies
This for those who carry revolution in the back of the ride
And always keep a better future in the back of they mind
And never bother with the bullshit that distract the blind
You treat my music like a novelty and it bothers me
But though my people hobbled, we won't stop until we stomp the beast!
[Hook]
Stomp the beast! [x8]
Decapitate 'em, burn their bodies over blazing beats
Stomp the beast! [x4]
[Verse 2: Quisdabeast]
We hold these truths to be self-evident
That most of these niggas nowadays are irrelevant
Talking about places that they've never ever been
I be's in the trap, homie, Quis is a veteran
Hiphop soldiers, wake up and smell the Folgers
Them fake hustler, wanksta rapper days is fucking over
I'm here to take it back with blazing tracks that state the facts
Amazing raps the game has lacked, I'll shame these cats and fade to black
By all means, nigga, get your money
But money can't get you to the land of milk and honey
So what does it profit a man to lose his soul
For the sake of going gold? Weak nigga, break the mold
Life is more than getting riches and bitches and hitting switches
And I ain't saying you gotta get religious
But try talking about something that makes a difference
That's uplifting the people that take the time to listen
Uh, I'm breaking niggas down into submission
If they're caught up in the glamor and forgot about the mission
Yeah I'm gettin' it, but I'm a little different
'cuz I'm the type to put the industry under my Timberlands and . .
[Hook]
[Verse 3: R.U.N.T.215th]
Time to reclaim this culture, let's march on our enemies
That besiege, and hold it like cities that's under siege
They mislead, with watered-down amateur fake emcees
And their greed, that plague through the masses like disease
Exterminate 'em, spit the heat of two billion degrees
Converge like a million man march of emcees
Suck their oxygen 'til they gasp for air and can't breathe
Then cripple their whole industry and bring it to its knees
We a whole different entity, my radical contingency
Hunting you down relentlessly, battle you out the cipher
Don't set foot in our vicinity, or perish from the intensity
The fat lady sung and told 'em to stop dumbin'
When you hear them horns hummin', start runnin', the reaper's comin'
Industry, ya dilated, polluted rap, I'm sick of ya
I'll grab you by the limbs while I chop machete and sickle ya
Cripple ya, with the words of man I use like hand-to-hand
Against your contraband, for stepping in lands of Rap-ghanistan
Better tremble when the mic is in grasp a prophet's hands
'cuz we aiming at you serpents that's sucking our holy land
[Hook]
[Verse 4: M.Langston]
Keeping their third eyes wide, lyrics in disguise
While keeping the melody most wanted like felonies
As I stay sharp, making hits, like a sniper to a Kennedy
Bring back the remedy, these rappers talking blasphemy
Records are selling with souls, and fairy tales
Half-baked, blowing smoke like they're David Chappelle
It's a crack epidemic, call it the industry
As we ram through those doors like the Reagans in the eighties
With local mercenaries that are revolutionary
We're fighting powers like we're a part of Chuck D's military
Evolutionary form, we rhyme over concepts
Dropping knowledge with the conscience of Nostradamus
Passing through levels, collecting coins like retro Sonic
As we knuckle up the game, blowing up the Robotniks
[Hook]
[Verse 5: Konundrum]
S-T-O-M-P the B-E-A-S-T
K.D. required to stomp the industry
So many things wrong, how we let this go on for so long?
I won't sweat it, I'mma do my part
Take back the game, let the reaper rip apart
All the mainstream, so obsessed with the green
They're even selling out their own team. But we're just different
Exactly what you need. We dare to be new
'cuz we believe in what we do. Our movement through the words
Kicking fake-ass emcees to the curb
Oh wait, did I say emcees? What I really meant was dudes with a mic
Who's weak in the knees, 'cuz they got nothing to stand for
It's all good, me and my people's about to even the score
We do the stomping with the steel-toed boot
Bring the presence that you just can't refute
It's too easy, all these fake-ass dudes been making me queasy
So we need to intervene. The game got dirty, so we're here to clean
Spin cycle, this a heavy load
You know we got it on lock, my team forever in a stomp mode
[Hook]
[Verse 6: Tao the Rez]
Ay yo I'm stomping these fake emcees, they spread out like carcinogens
Disease-infested viruses ingesting markets targeting
Victims, cultures picking superficial rappers offering
The rope, and so we're choking on their noxious verses. Often in
The scheme of things I dream of something beautiful to offer them
I fool myself for thinking if I do this they're gonna all extend
Love for something real, but then I see attempts exhausted and
The game has been accosted, I think the battle's lost, but then
I know the war is long and when the truth come out we're all gonna end
This corporate hold control over the masses, and we'll all defend
The culture that existed for no reason but to see the real increase
I'm trying to see my people stomping the beast!
Or at least, my fam'll reach a point at which we can decrease
The obstacles they placed to see our comforts become obsolete
And probably our kids can cut the pie and get their fucking piece
Time to take the cake and muthafuckin' rise and stomp the beast!
[Hook]
[Verse 7: Remy St. Clair]
First things first, I'm glad to be back in the 'Ville
I hear a lotta ish done happened since I left Rose Hill
Well, Charlton Ave, finally I'm home at last
Free to blast in the home of the Cavs--please
Home where the black knights thrash, in my city
These young whippersnappers think they're so bomb-diggy
But they not though, I keep forgetting they kids, still in diapers
Y'all peoples is biters, not professional writers
You see it's getting dark and muggy
Time to trade in them Pampers for a teflon Huggie
Make sure you buy a new bib, one that protects your neck
Don't want mama's boy laying in a hospital dress
Remy's back with that thing called music
See these young'uns try to do it, but they can't even pursue it
So why try? Please just sit back
Or I'll have to react and make your whole neck snap
[Hook x2]
