Biochemical Equation

Lyrics

[Verse 1: RZA] Tempted by the sins of life, the pleasures of lust With wild imaginings that you can't discuss Oh, the flesh is weak, it's a struggle for peace It's a daily conflict between man and beast We strive for God and a better tomorrow Still suffering from the unforgettable sorrow Repent from thy sins, son and walk ye straight Stop talkin' all that trash, boy and talk ye straight Afflicted by the pressures of life at every vital point Still, I wouldn't give an oint' Or flinch an inch—or pitch a pinch Off the pie or every try to try your wench Confronted by the Devil himself and stayed strong You think you can take the King, now meet Kong Strong as the base of a mountain, there's no countin' How many MCs have sprung from our fountain [Chorus: RZA] Fifty-thou' a year process to make this combination I'm not givin' mine away to Satan Although I know that he's a-waitin' To get a hold of my Biochemical Equation I'ma slip him, son—I'ma dip him, son When I catch the drop on him—I'ma clip him, son Fifty-thou' a year process to make this combination 99 elements, biochemical manifestation I'm not giving mines away to Satan Although, I know that he's awaitin' I'ma slip him, son, I'ma dip him, son When I catch the drop on him, I'ma clip him, son [Intrumental bridge] [Verse 2: MF DOOM] Bet, ahk—straight to the head with the pet rock At least 'til I can get from out this booth, it's like a sweatbox Trade a few bars of head-noddin'—throw us a stack Pay him and it's sewed up like thread and bobbin' bonus pack Invest in the first B-boy kid's show Live off skid row with jive-talking negros He wear his beard like a frizzly-haired grizzly And kept his appearances exquisitely rare, where is he? Is he in your backyard, or on your front porch? Or standing in the corner of the club with the blunt, torched? It's off, they say he rhyme like he starvin' And sold odds and bodkins to old gods and goblins Golly, I'm just a pest and your worst best friend Who mend and rip space-time fabric like polyester blend Not a hobby for no knobby-kneed Lesser men, or sloppy like the rest of them They prob'ly need estrogen [Pre-Verse: RZA] Yo, yo [Verse 3: RZA] Drunk or sober, son—don't lose your composure! Semi off the Remy, mixed with Henny, Moet demi' Underneath the passenger seat, son, tuck the semi- Israeli-issued automatic black pistol The cop with the flashlight chew gum as he whistle Tapped on the glass, roll it down fast License, registration—address to your lab They made insurance, "The reason why I pulled you over? 'Cause the way you were swervin', sir—you can't be sober Have you been drinkin'? Breathe into the breathalyzer Get out the car, please, follow this exercise, sir Put one finger on your nose—now, from heel to toe Walk in a straight line, ten paces down the road" My homeboy, Kano, used to do the mashed potato Or cartwheels, and then spin out like a tornado They used to chase him, right; but, son, he would always shake 'em! Then come and puff bowls and make beats inside my basement Drunk or sober, never lose your composure Stress on the brain cause pain and stomach ulcers If you can't understand, then come closer We civilized the uncivilized that we supposed to Drunk or sober, never lose your composure Mic in your hand, Black man, stand as a soldier Stress on the brain cause pain and stomach ulcers If you can't understand, then come closer