[ steps on stage with tha golden microphone .. as he proceeds ]

the microphones light shines bright like a prism
distorting your vision, like im aiming wit precision
at ya retinal position, you wishin..
that i would continue with this lyrical fission
separated two styles, biggie nd pac
imagine they was with me, sitting in the dark
i bust through its limits, within it, and exceed
theres no need, to feed my mind, with rhymes of the deceased

[ at the saying of these words, a change... and the possession commensed ]

the golden microphones, turned black as night
the rooms light, has receeded, out of sight
darkness fills the halls, people silent at the jaws
im tryna put lyrics out, all i hear is my flaws
then in a second, i hear my voice on the record
but the flows not mine, niether is the method

[ its sounded like this ]

big poppa ... ready to pop ya, proper
im a bad boy for life, we wont stop uh
got the shotty to ya body, we warriors
n-o-t-o-r-i-o-u-s its the notiorious

its that thug life nigger, finger on the trigger
survivin in the west aint easy for a skinny nigger
police tryna pop me, cant stop me, i bust back
know the lords on my side, got his crosses on my back

its the punisher, pointin the gun-at-ya
terror squad !! loco homies gon run-at-ya
bring the pain to ya door, the chain wit tha saw, and the gun
its not a game its war, plain and raw, big pun

capone hold the throne, when big l in it
from nyc, rhymin fast as a new york minute
expandin my chips, like this, i got bread
and mad hoes, ask beavin i get nothing butthead

[ the light returns, but still no sound, as the crowd stands in aw, with no comprehension of what has occured ]

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