Lyrics:

Uh.. they call me Class the MC refresh the memory.
Hands in the sky,
Whip the crowd to a frenzy.
Whether it's empty or packed like Wembley
I got a track record athletes would envy.
No need for jewels or a Bentley
I'm fresher than Dentyne on a ten speed shopping at Frenchy's.
I guess you could say I've been green sense this
Hemp weed hope them condemn me.
I don't wanna be a God damn rock star
All strung out and beaten down like a stock car.
I'll agree I'm a bit of a pessimist
Mad scientist mixed with the perfectionist.
I find this rap shit acts therapeutically
Without the hourly rate to abuse a beat and true
Indeed do whatever so beautifully ever since puberty
But never once musically.
Class they said I was going no where
But look I'm out here and ain't going nowhere.
Fingers in the crates still digging for the
Breaks and flesh flushers want to bring it to the plate.

Chorus:
Yo my head held high as I get in position
Real MC I fit the description what I'm spitting out
Needs no encryption. I am conditioned to vibe to the rhythm.
I've been sitting in the back with my eyes on the prize,
High trying to visualize.
A game with no straints stressed no pain
Got me pulling out my hair yes pass the rogaine.
Bushwhacked is back like Davey Crockett so
Touch up your front line like Jaime Foxx did.
Shit I'm a problem honorably honest but all
This bragging and talk is exhaustin.
I've had it rappers always rappin how good they rap,
Now what the fuck is the good of that.
I know you kill the beat like no one else but me
Literally the rhymes speak for themselves.
I never ran to the states trying to get signed for me
It was never get rich or die trying.
Broke tradition that made them go the distance
Sign simple livin but on my own conditions.

Chorus:
And if you don't think that I'm the coolest dude
Well that's cool too cause what's cool to you ain't to me
And what's cool to me ain't cool to you.
Yeah class is in session but school is through.