Check the technique

You puny protozoa you're so minute you didn't know the
gang has been watching but instead of just squashing you
i'm scooping you up out of the muck you wallow in
like a cheif chemist all the sciences are following
planned it to examine you on a petrie dish
sticking you and fricking you just a tiny bit
i'm clever wit science but never reliant
unfalse words from cowards who forever be trying
insisting they come off, i let them get some off
they come back wit drum tracks, their ears could get number
blockbusting, like making love, i never stop thrusting
into your system so just listen
i'm like a neurosurgeon operating wit ?(a fear of version)?
i write perscriptions of words that fit in
then go catch my stride as i kick it live
'cause it's more that a style, it's conceptual genius
my effect on the scene is to project that i mean this
you deadbeat, wait until you see my next feat
i get respect for the rep when i speak
check the technique
check the technique...see if you can follow it
i'm rushing you like a defensive end as i recommend
that you comprehend, i could stomp you in
a battle, contest, or war, what will it throw
it'll be ?(the poor picture)? of you're immature
insecure for sure, meek, weak visions of grandeur
to rudely awaken you, i then'll be breaking you
taxing without asking and tracking and snaking you
making you sucumb to the drums of gangstarr
by far we are truely gifted ones, son
but if you were to speculate or estimate us losing
you be dying, trying to face the fate of your delusions
'cause miscalculation is all you're stating
so i'm chumping, punting punks just like footballs
'cause i wanna put you all back in the messhall
to clean up the slop and stop all the bullcrap
your rap's crazy wack so don't try to pull that
you're lacking the vernacular, i'm slapping ya and capping ya
and closing your jaws 'cause you can't mess wit gangstarr
the guru and premier always dope wit the blessed beats
dance your ass off pops check the technique
check the technique...
bon voyage, sinare, averduchi
your ass gets busted due to mustard, you tried to work me
you irked me 'cause you copy and falsified
and i don't care how many step up 'cause you all can try
and wish and fish for a style, here's a fishing rod
these rhymes are hitting hard, constantly i'm getting large
inediblely, i readily kick a sprew
of lyrics so deep, so don't sleep, but just peep me
putting methods on records and spin it for each millisecond
33 rpm's displays the odd of men
and as my rhyming builds you see my time is chill
and then i look upon weak ones
i'm teaching each one so they become redone
and ?(says)? are relayed to twist you up like frenchbraids
or tied up like corn braids 'cause i got a strong way
force like police raids to never be delayed
i once was the least paid but i made the grade
'cause this ain't a slave sale and i ain't the same stale
rapper, no, i'm not a phony microphonist wit no blaster
no type of real appeal or real talent
and it makes me violent man
to see all of these pee wee's be mc's wannabees
making g's for some dumb companies
and lots of money but no idea what is rap and what is dope
but check out what the guru wrote
'cause i will prevail, give you tales as i unvail
have enuff braincells so i can stay paid well
now i'm in the driver seat and rocking the louder beats
bouncing and booming and blasting you to the next seat
sheik and unique wit lots of tics like a leach
check the technique
check the technique...see if you can follow it