Intro/Chorus:
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down (4X)
Verse One: El Da Sensei:
C'mon and get down with that Artifacts sound
Where kids get wreck and, the beat's bound to pound
We're strollin through the industry B, see we gotta be
the next s*** that kicks, cause brothers ain't got it
In this rap s***, ain't no time for the dilly-dally
pally throw a match in the Gasoline Alley
Blew up mad spots, kids were jealous for the props
See the s*** never stops Hobbes, just lookin for my dillz-knot
Styles we make, never fake, broke breaks in every crate
Old freestyles and dirty a** copied-over tapes
Notified that, the Artifacts never slack
While crews is on stage wack, we just play the back
Now, the flip tripper ripper slits ya wit da mixture
All crews, who never paid dues, watch it 'fore I get ya
Cause nowadays, it's da ways, of the underground
but they're wack now, so c'mon wit da git down
Chorus :
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down (4X)
Verse Two: Tame One :
You know the stacks, if not, then ask some n***** who heard of me
The half on the Artifacts of Jersey
Cause brothers be buggin not givin love to the nuccas
Sayin f*** us, cause we be shinin brighter than the suckers
Shootin me prison nobody listens to your dissin
Cause yo my s***'s legit and as a lyricist I'm hittin
the high note, so why don't, I smile when I take pictures
Cause now that I rock I got more n***** on my jock than b******
I just wanna do my jams with fams and slam into some hypeness
But b***rs and backstabbin rappers don't even like us
But props due, peep The Source RapPages and the Billboard
And read about the tours while you be flappin your jaws
I freak techniques, cause talk is cheaper than beepers from Broad Street
Punks talk junk, Tame and the Sensai leave em all beat
So peep how deep my technique freaks and how my s*** sounds
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down
Chorus :
Verse Three: MC El, Tame One
Hold up, you rap sucker duck, buck, the track's rough enough
to prove a point, that the n***** is the joint
Magazines where we're seen, now pop the tape in your deck
I got the Heavy Ammunition cuz I'm Flexi Wit Da Tech
n*****, can't believe the Artifacts acheive
Got, tricks up my sleeve so bow down on your knees
Yo, we ain't got the same lame, ordinary plain game
Put to shame any crew who wants to feel the flame
So bring submission to the rap recognition
My right hand is itchin from the s*** that I'm scriptin
So pass the baton, to the next runner up, Tame
I give a pound so, c'mon wit da git down
Aiyyo, word to my grandma's tampons, I drop bombs, but since
our demo tracks had gaps some said my fat raps was half-a**ed
Watchin others rock and clock we shocked em like a robot
with our props, so now the Notty Head n***** got more knots yo
My pockets are lumpy chump, my drunk style is trunky dunk
My disc in crisp, put funk in funk like Humpty Hump
Cuz I'm comin from the underground I'm down wit da git down
MC's who used to diss us, get p***** cause they ain't s*** now
The Artifacts, represent on every stage we step on
The days of gettin slept, are dead because we keep on
peepin these weak MC's, who cheese with their bologny
Cause they're phony as f***, and couldn't pull s*** off a tow truck
So yo bro, now you know my flow so go and sit down
or c'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down
Chorus 2X
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down (4X)
Verse One: El Da Sensei:
C'mon and get down with that Artifacts sound
Where kids get wreck and, the beat's bound to pound
We're strollin through the industry B, see we gotta be
the next s*** that kicks, cause brothers ain't got it
In this rap s***, ain't no time for the dilly-dally
pally throw a match in the Gasoline Alley
Blew up mad spots, kids were jealous for the props
See the s*** never stops Hobbes, just lookin for my dillz-knot
Styles we make, never fake, broke breaks in every crate
Old freestyles and dirty a** copied-over tapes
Notified that, the Artifacts never slack
While crews is on stage wack, we just play the back
Now, the flip tripper ripper slits ya wit da mixture
All crews, who never paid dues, watch it 'fore I get ya
Cause nowadays, it's da ways, of the underground
but they're wack now, so c'mon wit da git down
Chorus :
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down (4X)
Verse Two: Tame One :
You know the stacks, if not, then ask some n***** who heard of me
The half on the Artifacts of Jersey
Cause brothers be buggin not givin love to the nuccas
Sayin f*** us, cause we be shinin brighter than the suckers
Shootin me prison nobody listens to your dissin
Cause yo my s***'s legit and as a lyricist I'm hittin
the high note, so why don't, I smile when I take pictures
Cause now that I rock I got more n***** on my jock than b******
I just wanna do my jams with fams and slam into some hypeness
But b***rs and backstabbin rappers don't even like us
But props due, peep The Source RapPages and the Billboard
And read about the tours while you be flappin your jaws
I freak techniques, cause talk is cheaper than beepers from Broad Street
Punks talk junk, Tame and the Sensai leave em all beat
So peep how deep my technique freaks and how my s*** sounds
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down
Chorus :
Verse Three: MC El, Tame One
Hold up, you rap sucker duck, buck, the track's rough enough
to prove a point, that the n***** is the joint
Magazines where we're seen, now pop the tape in your deck
I got the Heavy Ammunition cuz I'm Flexi Wit Da Tech
n*****, can't believe the Artifacts acheive
Got, tricks up my sleeve so bow down on your knees
Yo, we ain't got the same lame, ordinary plain game
Put to shame any crew who wants to feel the flame
So bring submission to the rap recognition
My right hand is itchin from the s*** that I'm scriptin
So pass the baton, to the next runner up, Tame
I give a pound so, c'mon wit da git down
Aiyyo, word to my grandma's tampons, I drop bombs, but since
our demo tracks had gaps some said my fat raps was half-a**ed
Watchin others rock and clock we shocked em like a robot
with our props, so now the Notty Head n***** got more knots yo
My pockets are lumpy chump, my drunk style is trunky dunk
My disc in crisp, put funk in funk like Humpty Hump
Cuz I'm comin from the underground I'm down wit da git down
MC's who used to diss us, get p***** cause they ain't s*** now
The Artifacts, represent on every stage we step on
The days of gettin slept, are dead because we keep on
peepin these weak MC's, who cheese with their bologny
Cause they're phony as f***, and couldn't pull s*** off a tow truck
So yo bro, now you know my flow so go and sit down
or c'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down
Chorus 2X
C'mon wit da c'mon, git down wit da git down