[Verse 1: Docktor Speckter]

You see the funny thing, is that we creepin’ up from underneath/
You just be plummeting, wondering what’s become of me/
Mind-state: cluttery, crime-rate: top of the charts/
You mock Dock and say goodbye to ever walkin’ the talk/
Fuck it, make it talkin’ at all/
I forgot to recall, I’m hoggin’ the rock, because you droppin’ the ball/
Takin’ shots in the dark, this ain’t the luck of the draw/
They picked the Docktor to start because I gots ‘em to fall/
Another metaphor for runnin’ game/
I came, saw, conquered, put competitor to shame/
So just remember the name ain’t Shane Mosley/
It’s King Mowgli, descendent of the greats/
On the Planet of the Apes, obey, for they watch closely/
I demonstrate, sound is sweet as cannoli/
I’m only a man, but I’ll be damned if this the game of Life/
My old man taught me always play it straight, like it’s/

[Chorus 2x: Docktor Speckter]

One for the money roll, two for the show/
Three for them notable, Hip Hop quotables/
Go toe to toe with the coldest of hearts seen/
From the podium, within the Market of the Beast/

[Verse 2: Docktor Speckter]

I Walk Hard, resemble a rockstar/
Be catchin’ you off guard, goddammit the top dog/
Off the motherfuckin’ leash, musically I’m farther/
Than your motherfuckin’ reach, I venture to hop yard/
Cuz it’s greener on the other side of the top charts/
You ought not to bother, don’t call it Avant Garde/
Call it godlike, gutter-ball, all night, coming raw/
All bite, you just be barkin’ when the sun is up/
The runner-up, underdog, stuck to the porch/
During the tug-of-war, while I was runnin’ the floor/
I’m stuntin’ for sure, krumpin’, I’m pumpin’ ‘em up, they lovin’ the flow/
Gutter approach, sonnin’ ‘em when I’m bustin’ a note/
And cuttin’ the throat of the biggest threat/
So I be knowin’, not hopin’ to hopefully be the best, while/
They forkin’ over a token of they respect/
Cuz in the Market of the Beast it ain’t easy to cheat death, now/

[Chorus 2x]

[Verse 3: D-Lo the Martyr]

My motivation is lack of dedication/
To anything other than a beat and a hook/
I get mistook for being subtle, a silent muzzle/
On the tip of your dome, try to step son, you’ll stumble/
Soul brother number one plus nothin’/
D-Lo the Martyr, kid, now let me tell you somethin’/
Ever since a young age, I been with it/
They sent my ass to jail, no chance to be acquitted/
I’m rappin’ for the 970, call it FoCo/
Smoked a lot of weed in it, I think I’m still high, yo/
Smoked a lot of weed, I went from corny bitch to maestro/
Slept with plenty women, went from virgin to a ‘you know’/
I’m talkin’, triple beams, my wet dreams involving CREAM/
Metaphor for money, not the shit up on your face, eh/
I never rap alone, seven brothers hold the throne
Gangster rap is what I own, you little pussies stay at home/

[Chorus 2x]