This song also appears on "Haze Presents DJ Premier's Reality Check"       For underground metaphors    You can scrape an inch below the turf for what it's worth    My style's been developed in the core of the Earth    The exhale's volcanic the inhale is seismic    So brothers just panic when he Live one arrives with    The natural ability to run through your crew    From 2 1 4 to 2 1 3 to 2 1 2    In other words from Dallas to L.A., to the place where J stay    Everyday is mayday    So you can talk your trash on how you're wettin MC's    with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain    I look upon your brain with disdain    Go back and reflect on my endeavors black I can't complain    It's like a raw deal, consistant with the way I make you feel    The ends stay revealed while the means I conceal    And those who try to steal get decapitated    You wanna snatch my H2O type flow, but it evaporated    I displays my credentials over instrumentals    And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential    It's detremental questionin my thesis    The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis    I rip your rhyme to pieces after drainin out your fluid    My vocab is fluent yours is evident of being truant    I know you wanna make moves but son you best to take a second look    Before my knight takes your rook       Chorus:       Cause everybody's rappin, and only few can flow    So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know    I handle true MC's on their block or at their show    So if you come with bull kid, keep it on the low       Cause yo, I got the hairsplittin, self-written unbitten style    that leaves the competition running scared and shakin in their pants    You best to set it off cause black it aint no second chance    once I'm open, all you doin is hopin that the Live one    will put the mic down, but son don't try to snatch it after    The laughter won't cease from the comparison, how dare you son    Step around the booth when I'm on    The microphone magician says poof, you're gone with the wind    There's no trace of your friends cause you don't know where the    beginning ends or where the end begins    But you see that's the difference, you get sold, I get paid    Black I told you, get paid    If you're broke I'll have to rain on your parade    You belong in Special Ed if you think you Got It Made    J-Live with the mic is like the chef with the blade    Cause suckers get sliced and sauteed    Yeah, you thought your joint was fly but the flight was delayed    because       Chorus: repeat 2X       Cause yo, I take the grey matter of pretenders    through my mental blender, and then return to sender    My pen don't pretend to offend    I intend to render MC's, hangin loose like a fender bender    I recommend regardless of your gender    That you strike messin with J-Live from your agenda    And remember that whoever lends a helpin hand to defend ya    Will get burned to a cinder    As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies    Renderin me sick, with the thoughts of killin enemies    But then I return to reality    Metaphorically murderin MC's when they battle me    You can't rattle me    I'm not your average snake slitherin through the grass    I surpass the serpent as I head to class    You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style's no joke    but you best belive I gets the last laugh