[Pumpkinhead]
Ha ha ha, yo where my Brooklyn crew at?
(We right here)
Yo where my Toronto crew at?
(Sayin we right here son)

This is where Pumpkinhead takes it back to the basics
A twelve inch single, to get you out of The Matrix
Away from the sellouts, lookin like Andy & Amos
I'm not a super duper star, but I'm almost famous
But wait, have patience, my flow is so sacred
The rebirth of a culture they thought was outdated
Love it or hate it I made it and reshaped it
And molded and folded it over kicks and sub basics (damn!)
Some places refuse to just play it
Cause I'm not rhymin about guns drugs and court cases
Or I'm hated cause my pigment is too shaded
And I don't wear trucker hats, me whack, is a false statement
My raw cadence came with a call waiting
So I can switch over styles while you stand in awe jaded
Your jaw's breakin while you walkin the hall pacin
Thinkin Pumpkinhead's authentic, and y'all all fakin

[Chorus - sung]
This is hip-hop music for your soul
Original don't twist it or confuse it no no no
Authentic circa 1992 shit feel the glow
Of Pumpkinhead and Marco Polo's new hit oh oh oh

{*scratched - female moaning "OHHH!*}

[Pumpkinhead]
This is for all the DJ's from the East to the West
Authentic hip-hop music, this is as good as it gets
Marco laid down the tracks and I react with a flow
Just like I did for Sway & Tech on the Wake Up Show
Ohh, hold up you about to go nuts
When you hear Revolution wax and scratch this tone up
Authentic, no Screw version or remix
But Eclipse'll deep six and flea fick even if the beat skips
I'm your new neighbor, best friend to a crossfader
Beyond you by light years, so they play me on Future Flavors
Marley Marl, Primo and Pete Rock
And Evil Dee'll bless this heat rock until the beat stops
Beat Junkies flip the tune and Skratch Piklz
will bump this all night that's right, it's that simple
Can't forget B-Mello, Seattle is on lock
DJ Links in Canada got this record 'pon cock
Non-stop, 'til 3001
Can't forget Turntable Annihilists and DP-One

We got that vibe and sound to bring chills to your bones
Takin you back to the knapsack and headphones
P.H. and M.P. straight keepin it live
Authentic hip-hop, for 2005

Okay, you got the gist of what I'm tryin to do
Is bring it back to the year of 1992
My lyrics inhabit a spirit and image you all miss
So I, give it and spit it and rip it, awww shit
I'm what you call a purist so my fitted and kicks
flippin the script in the whip I want xzibit to pimp
I'm an old man, I don't need diamond chains to make me
Samuel Jackson's opposite, it's impossible to break me
Since "Dynamic," my name's been well known
Your career's Mr. Glass and could shatter like frail bones
Aww hell no! You know I'm up in the mix
Reppin hip-hop like a race and I'm runnin the shit
Marathon in Babylon whether you Bloody or Crip
They're gonna scream out my name like, "You son of a bitch!"

[Chorus]

{*scratched - female moaning "OHHH!*}

[Pumpkinhead]
We got that vibe and sound to bring chills to your bones
Takin you back to the knapsack and headphones
P.H. and M.P. straight keepin it live
Authentic hip-hop, for 2005

{*scratched - "aww yeah!"*}