Bump what you heard and who you heard it from
if you came for the words, I'm here to serve you some
cause I got them, and I got plenty
and I'm not selfish, and I'm not stingy
cause I came from a background where you had to spaz out
reaching for the mic if you gonna put your hand out
and now, I'm standout that'll making you stand down
if you wack, get to the back, and put your head down
yeah, feel the shame
if I couldn't do it either, I'd feel the same
I'd feel your pain, but I fill the page
with ideas and schemes and rhymes about plight
and times of my strife
the odds of my heights being high as my skill
when I've been this nice defining my life
a definition defined by my mic

Y'all really don't get it
I say gimme the mic, I'm really gon spit it
all truth, give credit where it's due
if I said it, you better believe I done did it
see, it's all in the poems
I can switch styles from written to off of the dome
either way, it's the story of my life
defined by the words, the rhythm, and my mic


*SEAN RIDDELL*

These rappers doing it just for the recognition
they need to get pressed like a deposition
I kept doing sets and repetitions
til this music gave me definition
reminiscent of the best that ever did it
if you don't believe me, then you never listened
I'm still doing demolition
when the words come to me like a premonition
or a prediction, a pro diction
no fiction, so slick there's no friction
I'm not rapping, I'm just speaking my mind
it just happens to be in a rhyme, keeping the time
appreciate the mindset of a rhyme vet
time-tested, with much of mine vested
and you know the ROI when I time fly
so you know what I'm defined by


*THE SOUL*

First off, I’m not a rapper; I’m a dope emcee
ice cold with the flows, let The Soul proceed
not defined by the mic, but this life I lead
on these beats when I rhyme, it’s the truth I speak
old school wordsmith; cut my teeth in cyphers
yo my blade stay sharp, ‘cause I roll with iron
not hammers, nor heaters; just Good Peoples
who Uppercut wack rappers on any track we eat on
word to Gabe & Saron, when I claim the baton
turn a hip-hop set into a (bomb)
cuts deeper than a meat cleaver
or a poet laureate freeing minds; that's a DEEP teacher
black scholarship, to Black goddesses
built like Layla is; sing free as Valencia
black & white, put these facts on wax
Sean and Joe with the Soul Emcee of Detroit (what up!)