Released: June 26, 2007
Songwriter: Pharoahe Monch
Producer: Pharoahe Monch
[Intro]
As we move forward towards the new millennium
We will no longer communicate with vocal inflections
It will be necessary to communicate through telekinesis
We will open your mind and concentrate harder
Focus, focus, focus, focus
Hey, brother, what it is?
[Verse 1]
Raps like Star Wars, only the stars die, it's no sequels
Beat three cases, see three POs
Before Morpheus and Neo was killing 'em
We was ducking bullets in the hood like Remo Williams
Understand the underground Dom sipper
Take it serious or die laughin' like John Ritter
Young Eastwood, just trying to eat good
Breathe easy, relax, mack like Fleetwood
Keep snoring, keep sleeping, I'll keep touring
Come back, lay in the cut like Neosporin
Came out of the fallopian blasting
Pharoahe hungrier than Ethiopians fasting
Flies all in my teeth, stomach sticking out
Niggas want dibs on the weed but ain't kicking out
See, this is not American Idol
This is me trying to eat, human survival
Spit at your favorite rapper, take his title
Stick needles in his eyeballs 'til his signs are no longer vital
This ain't that, I'm not them
These ain't those rhymes, I'm not him
This is more like cocaine all night
Shine like the new five halogen foglights
No, more like sunshine
And one line of mine'll remind you of when you were nine
Before you were busting cherries, it wasn't necessary to grind then
Now we all on our grizzly
And you got the nerve to press Frisbees
What it is
[Chorus]
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
[Verse 2]
If I'm not home on the range, catch me at the range
Practicing my aim, catch you in your brain
Shame, they thought I was backpack
Slept, didn't know that he kept inside the knapsack
Today's niggas do skate-by hits
Run in your crib on some Queer Eye For The Straight Guy shit
But not homosexuals, they mastering gunplay
Rearrange your furniture, fix your feng shui
They be swearing it's cute
But I be up in the club, box-cutter in the boot
With the sex appeal and no ice either
The right to bear arms, I'm not talking wife-beaters either
When they see me they say, "That's that nigga"
My last name should be 'That's That Nigga'
Sounds kinda nice, 'Pharoahe That's That...'
Never catch me with them plastic half-ass niggas
With the flow that's so influential
Niggas fucked up, they get no instrumentals now
Next time you spitting on mine
Bet your bottom dollar you be spitting over rhymes
What it is
[Chorus]
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
As we move forward towards the new millennium
We will no longer communicate with vocal inflections
It will be necessary to communicate through telekinesis
We will open your mind and concentrate harder
Focus, focus, focus, focus
Hey, brother, what it is?
[Verse 1]
Raps like Star Wars, only the stars die, it's no sequels
Beat three cases, see three POs
Before Morpheus and Neo was killing 'em
We was ducking bullets in the hood like Remo Williams
Understand the underground Dom sipper
Take it serious or die laughin' like John Ritter
Young Eastwood, just trying to eat good
Breathe easy, relax, mack like Fleetwood
Keep snoring, keep sleeping, I'll keep touring
Come back, lay in the cut like Neosporin
Came out of the fallopian blasting
Pharoahe hungrier than Ethiopians fasting
Flies all in my teeth, stomach sticking out
Niggas want dibs on the weed but ain't kicking out
See, this is not American Idol
This is me trying to eat, human survival
Spit at your favorite rapper, take his title
Stick needles in his eyeballs 'til his signs are no longer vital
This ain't that, I'm not them
These ain't those rhymes, I'm not him
This is more like cocaine all night
Shine like the new five halogen foglights
No, more like sunshine
And one line of mine'll remind you of when you were nine
Before you were busting cherries, it wasn't necessary to grind then
Now we all on our grizzly
And you got the nerve to press Frisbees
What it is
[Chorus]
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
[Verse 2]
If I'm not home on the range, catch me at the range
Practicing my aim, catch you in your brain
Shame, they thought I was backpack
Slept, didn't know that he kept inside the knapsack
Today's niggas do skate-by hits
Run in your crib on some Queer Eye For The Straight Guy shit
But not homosexuals, they mastering gunplay
Rearrange your furniture, fix your feng shui
They be swearing it's cute
But I be up in the club, box-cutter in the boot
With the sex appeal and no ice either
The right to bear arms, I'm not talking wife-beaters either
When they see me they say, "That's that nigga"
My last name should be 'That's That Nigga'
Sounds kinda nice, 'Pharoahe That's That...'
Never catch me with them plastic half-ass niggas
With the flow that's so influential
Niggas fucked up, they get no instrumentals now
Next time you spitting on mine
Bet your bottom dollar you be spitting over rhymes
What it is
[Chorus]
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is
What it is, what it is, what it is, what it is