Pull your heads out your white-privileged assholes,
It's time for legit Rock voters to mob the polls.
One from Long Island, the other from Queens
Slayed the whole world and the '80s rap scenes.
Sampled sick beats like a Saturday at Costco,
Waist-deep in grooves, fleshed 'em out, let 'em grow.
"Paid in Full" — that's a landmark, a watershed
Cover of the album has 'em rollin' in bread.
Who needs an epic when you're trading in truth?
Spent a week slingin' rhymes standing in the booth.
F*ck Grandpa Flash, Rakim unleashed a furious
Five, they weren't spurious, and if you're curious,
He spit fires while B. backed him up
With a thick bass line; go on, raise up your cup.
Album No. 3 gave us more of the same traditional
Wordplay and sc-sc-scratching; it's just medicinal:
"Too many milligram/But what made a iller jam,"
Give a standing O to that lyrical grand slam.
Nothing lives forever, the pair cleaved in Ninety-Two.
There were court battles royale, the rift between 'em grew.
Public still paying their respects to seminal rap duo
Thousands of hits on YouTube, immortal like Chang kuo.
Let Mr. West tell you he owes them no debt,
Run back to your bookie and place a fat bet:
It's Eric B. for HOF President, Rakim for Vice.
Turn up your hearing aid, ain't gonna say it twice.
