Oh, what a night, yo, that I just been through   I barely made it home from this hip-hop venue   These two guys, no three guys, no four, yo, this posse   Try to fake a move and bum rush me like a Nazi      Underground club where the kids are like rolling   I almost got an avalance dropped on my shoulders   'Cause I writes the fat raps and kids memorize 'em   I tries 'em, this freestyle and boy, did I surprise 'em      They said, "Yo, that's too hype, yo, who's he think he is?"   He's supposed to be commercial like that song about the biz   The kid said "Masta Ace, yo, what's the deal wit the switching?"   He's bitching, didn't like the rap I was pitching      You see, he was a rapper wit a single about to drop   His record label told him that he had to make it pop   Take it from me, Jack, you're sadly mistaken   A lot of record labels been trying to get the bacon      By making a brother into something he is not   And you're better off and farming on a farm picking cotton   They mold ya and shape ya, they bend and they twist ya   They get paid like quick fast and that's when they dish ya      So homeboy, you're better off coming from the heart   And letting the kids put your record on the chart   You must use your head and forget what they said   'Cause in about a year, you'll be like, "Wake me when I'm dead"      (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies      If this was an opera, I'll probably say, 'Figaro'   Black kid from Brooklyn but don't call me nigga though   I rocks the jams for the young population   I wonder, I wonder, can I change the nation?      It's futile, so I try, yes, hoping, yeah, maybe   But I can't sit home and write, 'Ice, Ice Baby'   'Cause if it comes down to, I must have a pocket   I go get a day job and rapping, I'll stop it      I'm never going out, so, yo, firm I am, standing   'Cause my jams are fat like a cop named Canon   My rap is for the mind, it's nutritious   My word is final, the final is delicious      So face it as if it was a hot fudge sundae   Or I'll come get mine, I guess maybe one day   I gotta work hard and must use my head   You'll never hit the point, I'm saying, "Wake me when I'm dead"      (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies      (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies      Wake me when I'm dead, hey yo, wake me when I'm dead   This life is like a nightmare, I'm gonna lose my head   So I make the jam that'll make me feel better   I hear a lot of groups that come cheesier than cheddar      But this jam is well built like '57 Chevies   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   So weigh this on ya underground scaling   We be prevailing while others be failing      I'm hailing from Brooklyn and I strive for the ends   But I don't need a Beamer and I don't need a Benz   Still I get respect for the style I'll be choosing   Rapping to the soul kind of jazz like confusion      I'm cruising not for a bruising but I'll break up   Anything that's broiling like an LA Laker   So I rocks the West Coast as well as the city, yo   I got crazy flavor like a PE video      Plus I got a lot of um, skill and that's word doc   With battle, who me, G? You're crazier than Murdoch   Instead of confronting, you oughta be checking   The time 'cause it's wasting, second after second      You're so busy ripping and daring kids to shoot ya   According to the Jetsons, there's no blacks in the future   You better wake up before you're in over your head   Tomorrow, you'll be screaming, "Wake me when I'm dead"      (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)   The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies      (Wake up)   The Masta, the Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)   The Masta, the Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies   (Wake up)