Verse One:

Too many sounds irritate my earholes
like Planet Rock beats from L.A. hoes
The same old thing same ol shit I'm tired
Was once on the payroll about to be fired
Black radio shame pop rap's to blame
Program your playlist to sound the same
With a disco tempo cliche intro
Wack rap tracks for commercial shows
Mindless music for the masses has to take
time away from the REAL rap master
So I stay cool for community airplay
while ratings slip for the shit that you play
This is a test a lesson to be observed
No wack rhymes are heard I keep on raising the curve
Back and forth I never stick em soft I just run it
Punks'll shun it, gangs keep their girlies on it
Paris is the dog, much doper than morphine
Sick with the style so you can say you've seen
The radical magical man, master of master plan
So smooth from beginning to end
This is a test, back it up when I'm in the place
and all hail to the dog with the righteous bass
The boss I come across rough on your radiowave
Terror on two track whenever I'm played
Punks keep steppin that's the reason why I
come through sicker than a L.A. driveby by
Droppin bombs in songs y'all keep singin along
So smooth it couldn't never go wrong
This is a test

Verse Two:

Yo dig
When you buy a rap record do you buy it for dance moves
Or do you buy rap cause the lyrics are smooth
Cuz if you wanna dance you should stick with the other one
and leave the dog alone till the dancin is done
But then when you're ready for the brother who leads
and feeds all rap lovers with rhymes like these
I dish a little taste of the bass of Scarface
and paste a rhyme space to chase the weak-kneed
Cuz I don't play - well my name ain't [*******]
A A-T-C, a N-W-A
I'm Paris, the asiatic lord of light
With the power to fight and write rhymes to stay
Cuz I'm hotter than lava when I be up on a microphone
By now you should know it the poet doper than most
By dispensing of ignorance how I'm keeping the wack down
You enter to the realm of the Scarface sound
This is a test