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Shadrach

Riddle me this, my brother, can you handle it?
Your style to my style, you can't hold a candle to it
Equinox symmetry, and the balance is right
Smokin' and drinkin' on a Tuesday night
Not how you play the game, but it's how you win it
I cheat and steal and sin, and I'm a cynic
For those about to rock, we salute you
The dirty thoughts for dirty minds we contribute to
I once was lost, but now I'm found
The music washes over, and you're one with the sound
Well, who shall inherit the earth?
The meek shall
And, yo, I think I'm starting to peak now, Al
And then the man upstairs, well, I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts, I'd be a millionaire
We're just three emcees, and we're on the go
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego


Only 24 hours in a day
Only 12 notes, well, a man can play
Music for all, for not just one people
And now we're gonna bust with the Putney Swope sequel
More Adidas sneakers than a plumber got pliers
Got more suits than Jacoby & Meyers
Well, if not for my vices and my bugged out desires
My year would be good, just like Goodyear's tires
'Cause I'm out picking pockets at the Atlantic Antic
And nobody wants to hear you 'cause your rhymes are so frantic
I mix business and pleasure way too much
You know, wine and women and song and such
I don't get blue, I gotta mean red streak
You don't pay the band (your friends), yo, that's weak
Get even like Steven, like pulling a Rambo
Well, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, you know

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
(no)
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Stealing from the rich, and I'm out robbing banks
Giving to the poor, and I always give thanks
Because I've got more stories that JD's got Salinger
I hold the title, and you are the challenger
I've got money like Charles Dickens
I've got the girlies in the coup, like the Colonel's got the chickens
And I always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman
I'm madder than Mad's Alfred E. Newman
Never gonna let them say that I don't love you

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego


Well, my noggin' is hoggin' all kinds of thoughts
And Adam Yoggin is Yauch and he's rockin', of course
Well, smoke the holy chalice, got my own religion
Rally round the stage and check the funky-dope musicians
Just like Jerry Lee Swaggert or Jerry Lee Falwell
You love Mario Andretti 'cause he always drives his car well
Vicious circle of reality since the day you were born
And we love the hot butter (say what?) the popcorn
Sipping on wine and macking
Rocking on the stage with all the hands clapping
Ride the wave of fate, it don't ride me, Holmes
Being very proud to be an emcee
And then the man upstairs, well, I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts, I'd be a millionaire
Amps and crossovers under my rear hood
Because the bass is bumping from the back of my Fleetwood
They tell us what to do, hell, no
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego
(no)
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

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