Lyrics:

This is dedicated to all those HARDCORE acts!
Yeah, you know them brothers that we used to look up to
That fell the FUCK OFF!
And now they doing all that R and B sh
Crocker
You mean Rhythm and Blues?
No, Rap and Bullsh-
Connection A, click, what?
My dick, chick
I smack a fish if you thinks
My connection ain't thick, dick
Headed like a punk whip
I travel miles with a rhythmic limp
I rock an afro
In '83, gee, yo
And spray the sheen so I get a Soul Glo
I play the corner tough
And me, and Mase pull puffs on a blunt
Givin' high-five is what I want
So I puff a blunt, I don't front
I get spliffed, get a stiff
And I go hump a stunt
Like a pimp pro
Nah, man, a super ho
That's cool cause I'm still an Afro bro
Yeah, I'm live, but my life is hectic
Every hour, every minute, every second
I keep a level head, and stay down to Earth
Cause I've been an Afro since birth
Yeah
Now I hold my crotch 'cause I'm top-notch
I run amok like Sasquatch, and I like to eat live crab
I've got five beepers, you scab
But you can find me directly on the Ave
You **** cheat me, well who's that?
My breath never smells wack
I eat the watermelon Tic-Tac
Before I kiss myself I always jump back
Yo G, this track is stack, and you know that
I do three flips
When a punk flips for my duke lift
But I flex more strength when I'm asleep
On the other side with his main tapes
Make her dry her face, buy her gold earlocks
But I may, she flocks round me like a donut
She got sprinkles but I bite my way out
More brothers come about, try to scheme slick
But the Native Tongue's thick
Lick 'em real good, like a real hood should
But the fly tape let the car speakers shake
I ran a cop down, I smile a frown with a bucket
Show gold teeth, 'cause I ain't a vegetarian
Not scared of beef, sport a feather like Chief
Got a scribble pad, you can get these gonads
Cause I'm big-willed, won't arf like a seal
'Cause connection with the Afro is real
I be the gift of gab, but be a bro is a diss
Because it's tough to bluff a cab
No wonder Melle Mel is 'Rrrr-RAH!'
I play a tape of the son of La-di-da
My cousin Rilo sells blow
A G a day keeps his kids hooray, a size nine and half
I kicks my tricks, is to live for Island
I mug a mug vic, but I's cool, I self
With the quickness I tell the true slang
Show no pit to those who don't understand
The Maseo got tailed with the big bail
I busted loose, but now the blue goose is on my tail
I seen the ghetto, go lower than it is
He don't care, cause his ****'s selling crack to the kids
My jeans are brand new, with twelve more
In the closet with my silk, and velour
My 45 pack thick, draw quick
If a **** starts some shibidibidit
My crib is uptown, downtown, L.I
And another crib in Queens
I munch some cornbread, Boar's Head
My favorite pork chops
And a plate of collard greens
I chill with Shymel, Akeem, Jahid
And the Rastafarians, I'll be the crime in
And the poverty
But the connections are still a high five
Let’s get busy