Show promoter backstage pacin (Why is that?)nHe's tryin to take control of his situationnHe know damn well he ain't got the money I expect to havenSo I'm stuffin all the backstage in my record bagnBut that's what you get when you don't pay shitnCause I can't pay my rent on free water and chipsnAnd if free beer means payment is what you thinknBK drank one and Ali don't drinknSo produce the fetti, cheddar or whatever you call itnGo get your dough split and come the hell up off itnThis is how I feed my family, so I'm not gonna forfeitnAnd if that doesn't get it, I'm gonna go for your walletnLet me guess - the turnout wasn't quite what you expectednLet me guess - somethin that the club owner did wrecked itnLet me guess - it's hard to pack em in in this kind of weathernAnd nobody wanna come and party after 9/11nThat's not a MP, that's a YP - your problemnYou need to have this shit planned out before callinnThis is not a game to me, dog, you stealin from my familynYou just gon' have to understand menBackstage pacinnnOpening act backstage pacin (Why is that?)nThey tryin take control of they situationnBut they mad salty cause they wore they fuckin matchin shirtsnAnd the crowd didn't feel them and they went on firstnIt's the monitor, the soundman, it's the muthafuckin micsnCats in this state are haters and the whole crowd's whitenDon't sleep, your Wu-Tang impression is tightnAnd if blah-blah would have happened, y'all'd had em snappinnLet me guess - you and your girl had a conversationnLet me guess - she doesn't feel that you're being compensatednLet me guess - you've been rappin for a year and a halfnAnd you mad brave when you get a little beer in your assnAt this stage y'all really need to show and provenPay attention, pay respect, pay homage, pay your duesnBe happy with your 20 minutes and your drink ticketsnAnd go build your own scene if you think differentnHah, cause we ain't even triyn to take y'all shitnThe Micronauts should have pinky rings to make y'all kissnIt's a road now, but who you think paved all this?nYou're mad-face makin, you're lucky to be backstage pacinnnFee-fi-fo-fumnWatch out, muthafucka, hear the big Brother comenLike fee-fi-fo-fumn(Here it come, here it come, here it kiddy-come-come); Run-DMCnnBrother Ali backstage pacin (Why is that?)nHe tryin to take control of his situationnHe's a million miles from home and his dick is on hardnAnd these girls are gonna make him prove that he believe in GodnI'm haunted by an overfriendly poetry chicknWho keeps showin me hip cause she know that she thicknAnd if I met her on the street I probably wouldn't look twicenBut at a show with my ego on swoll she look likenA master at applyin Maybelline with thighs you'd love to lay betweennHair was fly with raving sheen, gigantic eyes in hazel greennRevealin just enough to let me know she got itnBut concealin just enough to let imagination frolicnLet me guess - my poetry makes you feel so inspirednLet me guess - the way I play off the vibe makes you excitednLet me guess - you wanna go and party after the shownAnd you were hopin that the two of us could capture the flownShe like, Come on Ali, it ain't nothin to dancenBy the end of the song, girl, I be rubbin your assnAnd by the end of the night I might be fuckin you fastnThen my wife probably find a new husband and dash