[Blakspik]
Who be them cats talking that ra ra shit
With all that blasphemous talk they need to step to the left
There's no more real rap just fake cats with fake raps
Actin refined but in the dark they eatin the swine
So who’s the killer now with mad body counts
It’s cool to smoke wools cop dope and act like a fool
But I don’t carry no burners to look rough
Or smoke no la la so I can look tough
I just maintain like them old school brothers do
Rap is slippin so whos the A and R trippin'
This is the sounds that we created
Translated from true to to life scenes, verbally stated
So call the cavalry cause we’s about to go to war
And get your wig split my crew is kind of desperate

[Hook: Skinslaya]
Jealousy lies and deceit
Step to me with that shit it’s an instant ass beat
You cant do shit if you cant stick together
Desperate times for desperate fuckin measures

[Chorus: Blakspik]
Desperate times call for desperate measures
The true hip hop wont succumb to the pressures
So keep it pure, hardcore and raw
Soul Kid Klik declare war!

[G-Clef Da Mad Komposa]
As I stand perched on a cliff in the skies of Mount Ararat high
Smokin’ a spliff lookin down on the sewer rats
Swoop down to earth in the form Gideon’s Hawk
Then land in a pile of sand that used to be New York
I’m kickin rhymes in the worlds biggest sandbox
Battling Ewoks descended from hard rocks
Conduct a eulogy among the devastation
Of a land formerly brand the hip hop nation
The tribal leaders sometimes see me as a rival
We communicate through rap as a means to our survival
But overall we’re in co-operation
The resurrection of hip-hop's a sticky operation
Heed the recipe, a eye of neut, a pinch of rice
Twice, follow the book the recipe's precise
Look! Descending as the sky grows dim
Comes the Soul Kid Klik, Wu-Tang Clan and Rakim!

[Chorus]

[Infamous Mr. Savage]
Nineteen ninety somethin
The year of the studio gangsta fakin and frontin
It's open season on you bitch rappers im goin huntin'
It's war between real hip-hop and rap
Wreck shop or wack, fist fights and carry gats
My mind reacts to notes upon the track
That take me back to 1988 when the scene was fat
Nowadays you got these little ass niggas actin like they
Bigger fakin on triggers, it all look good in pictures
Which which is which that kid who shoots his lip
But in the face of beef switch up turns bitch

[Storm da Ghetto Mutant]
And changes pitch!

[Infamous Mr. Savage]
The apocalypse for style biters and criminals
Stop suckin' the next man's dick and be original
Following trends the agenda of a beginner
Heard Wu-Tang Clan now everybody is a five percenter
Disrespectable non intellectual
It's desperate times kid guard that knot before I step to you!

[Chorus]

[Storm Da Ghetto Mutant]
Me and my clique is at war to keep this pure
Verse an industry poisonous to the core
Financial collaborators end up in broken refrigerators
Style snatchers get dropped in trash compactors
Shiesty A and R’s get strangled in the trunk of cars
The Ghetto Mutant on the battle field leading the charge
Stalkin', striking foes headless horseman style
On a hunt like a pack of wolves in the wild
For infidels niggas are rotten fabricated tales
Yeah ya shit may sell but I'm a see that ass in hell
For the desecration of the sacred art...
Rhymes striking Storm bolts of lightning through your heart

[Chorus]