@ 15 - The Roots

The name of the brother to blame, it’s quite plain

It’s not the rain but a brother who don’t claim or aim

To be a preacher or ordained

I have black thoughts, therefore my name’s the same

Don’t question my ability, in a studio facility

As I utilize my God-given utility

On time, I get behind and push along a rhyme

Of mine which I design with wealth of mind

Leave MC’s blind with amnesia

Chop 'em into salad and my name ain’t Caesar

Think twice before you approach

Get benched by the coach, like eggs you’re poached

I wrote murder, so you can say it’s murder he wrote

You think I’m Hell sent, so you repent to the Pope

Don’t walk when the sign says not to

And don’t talk when Black Thought’s about to

When I say «Maestro» and bro starts to play it

If you got a rhyme in your mind, then don’t say it

Save it for the weaker, pack your portable speaker

And utilize the treads on your sneaker

Take your sorry crew back and forget about rappin'

Forget you ever saw me and forget this ever happened

Cause you might have nightmares of MC’s bein' slain

And I’ll be to blame when you go insane