[Intro: Common]
On the South Side, ha
Gon' get down with that get down
Let me spit rounds
This is how the shit sounds
Check it out, y'all, ha, ha

[Verse: Common]
It's the metaphysicals, some say the score of the revolution
Therefore, I have come
A calm before the storm
Words are born, formed, drawn in the brain
Soar, scorned by the pourin' rain
But I can stand it, seldom do I feel stranded
Granted, I stand with the style that is free
I'm the Mandela, ask Nelson, brothers love me
I lay it lovely, I'm ugly bogus on the mic
I strike like a teacher, rappers are lines
Stand in lines with they signs tryna picket
They picket the way I kick it
'Cause with it, I'm not wicked, 'cause that's malignant
I use my figments which is vivid
And give it to ya, baby, like love without no limit
I have no limits, no gimmicks, no image, don't mimic, I'm finished
No minutes to be timid
When shit stick, should I spit wit
I'm the nitwit, that sick shit I stick with
And kick with the crew I clique with
That's who I sit with and trip with and sip with
The buds are nipped in, and gold, I gift it
And hit without equipment I've often been depicted
As the solid one in liquid
Yo, this is shit's for my man Honda