Madlib

The Mission (feat. J Dilla)

Madlib


The mission I'm on to educate and elevate
Yo, the spotlight is mine, it ain't his no more
You thinkin' it's all good
Niggas can't live no more, and—
Fool, what you want?
I'm straight—
Yeah

Madlib turn the strings up
My knuckleheads, put them things with the beams up
You won't need your heat this time around
I spits fire, it's like the rhymes are rounds
In a big ass block of the bitch-ass niggas
Who wan' hate, cause they don't get cash with us
But they really on Jay and Mad dilznick
If you want the truth then that's just it
Them sick cause I slipped they chick this magic stick
We all that, can we get them balls back?
I keeps it simple as well as complicated
Jaylib for service, just compensate us
I'm tryin' to cop the Maker's and hop up
In the latest whips, caked rockin' gators
It's P.I., D.I. and L.I.B.
Better know what the hell I bring, it's fire

Nigga cock ya gauge—
He was talkin' shit to my man, so I had to get 'em
Yep—, Rock the house, chalk 'em out
M-A-D-L-I-B— B-A-D K-I-D

Yo, wait, now let me speak on these journalists
Only the ones who need to learn and listen
Before they criticize verses that burns kitchens
Live from the land of Hearns and Pistons
You heard me? Beats and rhymes so dirty
Play it too loud and you'll feel a burn where you pissin'
Up, my nigga turn the motherfuckin' strings up
The ultimate link-up, about to cha-ching up
Jaylib—baby, don't forget the name
How you want it, Beamer four-fifth or Range
Come see the Dilla lay with the fifth
Maybe you can write an article about how Jay play with them whips
And who said producers ain't supposed to rap
They don't want the Ruger to bang well close your traps
Better not run them jibs or fibs no more
We pullin' plugs, so haters (can't live no more, and—)

Fool, what you want?
I'm straight—
Yeah
Y'all nig— know y'all outta there, yeah
Come on with the real
Nigga take offense, fuck it, got to be that way

This is dedicated—
To these people out here getting bank
Where the pursuit of the money is reali-tay
Never front on a clique that you can't evaluate
So the other suckas follow
But they all fake— fake— fake
Ah, yeah, wah, ya