[Intro]
(ladies and gentlemen...
There are seven acknowledged wonders of the world
You are about to witness the.. Ow!)

[Verse 1: Madd]
To the tic toc on my clock you know my swatch is tickin'
A finger licking on my fingers count the suckers vicin'
Should I be wishing that I'm sitting while the others missin'
The rhyme is hitting now I'm dissing all the suckers hissing the beat breaks so you know the beat is being broke
I awoke to find another record being soaked
Should I hope and take a chance at being ton-loc
Or should I freeze or in the winter wear a big coat
I got it goin' so you know I keeps it goin' on
The madd is flowing so you know I rocks it to the morn
I'm steady tearing while the others steady being torn the rhyme is forgone
So you been forewarned I'll kick it quick and keep the point sharp like a drill bit
I write the rhymes, I write the rhymes, I got em throwin fits
Now you can wonder how I rock the mic so swift just ask king britt
He'll say it's just a gift I'm clocking props from the pops of the hip hops
Non stop I'll never drop from the knock knocks think not well a lot have fizzed to pop rock
Its hard to cop when your socks are locked up in knots its kinda crude kinda rude
Yo like ain't it dude they fed ta food and ya moved to a fatty groove yeah ya sued
But ya lose 'cause they left ya n*** it's hard to prove when you choose to ignite the fuse
I'm scoopin' tunes like a spoon in some ice cream
The punks feen what I mean is that they are unclean
They steady bite being trite about some blue jeans
I've never seen but I been around the scene I keep it silly, kinda chilly, when my tongue swings when I'm down
I make a sound, a kinda ding ding I never sing but I bring a groovy thing to my group, yeah the troop, in which I cling
[Verse 2: Oatie]
If the jim it is inside ya then ya know where oatie's at
The funkee music junkee jonesin' for rhymes like it is crack
Crack of either kind it is somewhat addicting like the material greed and the dollars doing dickin'
Sticking to the riffing of the money grubbers picking if ya got outs ta sell then then ya just hoe'ing and tricking not like halloween
But like that little house in texas and here ya thought a ho was just one of the sexes
Record reps perplex us by signing the signers so this is a blurb
For all those who carry a binder no pager, no papes, no jism in the drapes no sam goody shelving their cd's or their tapes
Sticking to the hip hop like its true as a smoker watching the rise and fall of some vanilla faced joker
We hear it from the green-bloods we hear it from the duckers
Who are selling outs to some wack rap buying suckers
Ya got a little sick with a wheeze and a cough ya took a step to the cliff then ya tripped and ya fell off
The goats are cuttin' throats traveling misogynic
Cause that's the way we like it funky frenetic