[GPM] Hit her, I mean let's hit this
[DX] That's not straight
[??2] Do it God, ya bwoy let's do it, nawmsayin'?
Let's pull it, bwoy

[Grand Puba Maxwell]
Aiyyo, check this out
Brand Nubian gettin' ready to swing this ep'
We got the Grand Puba, we got Derek X on the flex
We got Lord Jamar, we got Alamo with the A, Ron Stud!
And my man Ep Rock
X, kick the flavor for me on this one
'Cause we gettin' ready to be out of here in a, sec

[Verse 1: Sadat X]
While New York roars, my voice-box soars
I'll, open your pores, 'cause it's one of my chores
Kickin' beats to bongo rhythms, cuttin' rhymes to a schism
People often wonder and ask... is I'm the best?
Surely you jest, I'm not down with the rest
In fact... they failed the test
It's my vernacular that's simply spectacular
My bite is in your neck, it's the effect of Dracula
Man on a mission, go to school with low tuition
Can't even keep account of the G's I be kissin'
But oh, I beg your pardon, the race is startin'
The criminals is there and I'm the hardest of the hard
And it's a feat for you to meet me on any given day
The adjective — AMAZING, spelled with an 'A'
And a 'G' on the end, by usin' my pen
Set forth on a journey for the perfect blend
Rhymin' was a fad in the days of my dad
Now MC's is makin' G's and goin' for bad
The X in my name makes it all official
Am I the King? Well, that's the so-called issue
Rollin' off the tongue was the fresh one-liner
And CB talker was the zero one-niner
Took a slight drop from the tip of the top
Now I'm out for mines and I'm goin' to clock
What's mine, on a line, on a rhyme I will dine
Never ate the pig, can't deal with the swine
Keep on, yes, my word is bond
Speakin' that knowledge like Farrakhaaaan
'Cause it's ragtime!
[Grand Puba Maxwell]
Ah yeah, it's ragged, let's do it!
Aight, now we got Lord J
Lord J, yo, c'mon now
Kick, the flavor, to this
Drop it like this (I'ma swing it like this)

[Verse 2: Lord Jamar]
I like to drop bass, 'cause when it hits, I bounce 'em
I do this with my seven and one half ounces of brain
Which I contain, to manifest thought
The record is bought, so I figure I ought to elaborate
(Might as well) as minds in turn collaborate
I speak the facts, black, I don't exaggerate
I just get to the bare essential
Demandin' that I talk of my credentials, 'cause yo
I never slept, my mind was in the right place
Now, let's take our steps and retrace back to a time
When black was defined as Original, God-like, Supreme Divine
Refined is my mind that's why I'm buildin'
There was a void in New York but now it's filled in
By the Lord J, don't forget the A-M-A-to-the-R
Now say I'm a Star (You a Star, J!)
Well, you can be one, too
Now, here's all you got to do (whatcha gotta do?)
You got to know Knowledge of Self's the foundation
Know wisdom's the way to let it out, cuz
Understandin' is the manifestation
And culture freedom, the final turnout, 'cause it's ragtime
That's definitely ragtime
Now let me rag mine! Let me rag mine
Hit this in the 90's
Hey yo, bust it (here I go here I go here I go)

[Verse 3: Grand Puba Maxwell]
As I, stand as a Pharaoh and read up on Elijah
Trick ends on my friends, 'cause Puba's not a miser
Last longer than a Duracell, or an Energizer
I got a little older, but a whole lot wiser
When it comes to shootin' shots, I'm a damn good shooter
MC Grand Puba should be worshiped like a Buddha
I boogies to the rhythm, kicks all the flavortism
Damn, I gets busy, though makin' rhyme I gets bizm
Always help another, meanin' sister or a brother
Just a little tip I picked up from my mother
Smooth as Ali Baba, once a week I see the barber
So honey, pucker up 'cause I'm a DAMN good slobber
Mr. Exquisite, dressed in silk, Bally's made of lizard
So, honey, what is it? (What is it?)
I rock a rhyme at a weddin', next tour I'm probably headin'
You want a beat like this? Check the stack of Otis Redding
I'm hurtin' like a blister, confusin' like Twister
Not an only child — four brothers and one sister
Not a rinky-dinky, never snackin' on a Twinkie
When it comes to flexin', I can bend it like a Slinkie
So here comes the champ, to civilize a tramp
When brothers try to play me, that's when the Pub' gets amped
So smile, here comes the picture — click!
A humble type brother, so don't play me as a vic'
I can relate to the Good Times, the Cosbys only sometimes
Go to service on a Sunday, then it's back at work on Monday
Take my gear to the cleaners, buy pants or a Beamer
Then I'm out, beggin' crackheads, I can do without
(Definitely, why not, Puba? Why, why, why?) 'Cause it's ragtime
* ad libs to outro *