Lyrics
Verse 1 (Sinima):
I got my car radio locked on Hot 97,
When they take a commercial brake its 1:05 second
Radio raps cool, but the problem with it,
Is that the muthafuckin' DJs get props to spin it,
So the population is force-fed these light hits,
Till there's no choice but to say "I like that shit",
What they got? 20 tracks in regular rotation?
When's the last time an album dropped thats your favorite?
Spinning it non-stop, memorizing the words,
Got you feelin' every drop of this shit you just heard,
It only happens but so often, the globe darkens,
Actions speak louder than words, there's no talkin',
You can blame and claim that you don't like rap,
I got love for everybody populating the map,
There's no taking it back, it is what it is,
I'mma stack these dollars, you can keep your two cents,
Chorus (Sinima):
Zip, zlich, nada, not a thing,
Comes close to the shit that we bring,
It got a ring to it...,
Meanwhile, we're unsigned, we gotta keep movin',
Its just a matter of time before they see who is,
Next in line, who's next to shine,
Who's tracks are fire? You can bet your life its Sinima!,
Remember the name...,
So you can park that shit up on memory lane,
Verse 2 (Godhand Black):
Stayin' tore to the core, while pourin' up libations,
Bangin' whores beyond the contours of your imagination,
With encores galore, on all fours in rotation,
Got yours and nine more for her oral fixation,
Shine divine line for line and define a whole nation,
Showtime with cold rhymes, fine and wine on your station,
Got flows but no hatin', stay cold as a froze Saiyan,
Goin' Kamehameha...on my imitators,
None greater than the conveyor, sung savior of of the tongue's prayer,
Female rum slayers succumb to players,
Guzzle deep and peep the slum's flavor,
Shun haters, seek fun, become braver,
Much like young behavior...,
None stronger conjured from the Midwest,
No one can conquer this monster of the depths,
Dragging sharks to their deaths...,
In watery graves, slaughter the brave, fuck yo quest,
Game over, lame soldiers, you can claim eternal rest,
Chorus (Sinima):
Zip, zlich, nada, not a thing,
Comes close to the shit that we bring,
It got a ring to it...,
Meanwhile, we're unsigned, we gotta keep movin',
Its just a matter of time before they see who is,
Next in line, who's next to shine,
Who's tracks are fire? You can bet your life its Sinima!,
Remember the name...,
So you can park that shit up on memory lane,
