Text: Cappadonna. The Yin and the Yang. War Rats.

[Verse 1]
Less seen and less heard, It's the pillage
live where we die for trade, orphans of the industry, rise up against
pretense, DJ's of segregation come together plottin' on the Nation
cats got the puff powder dance
underground economics, take a chance at the crackpot
speak at the ones on top
at the gay bar your best rap star caught not keepin' it real
whats the deal wit' ya'll wanna be MC's when Ghost hit you
the struggle is official with this
chill 'cause we don't mix wit' yall uncle Tomers
we rock those real black leather bombers
for real, Park Hill not Beverly Hills
ya'll better be still
my brains come out of my ball pen for my origin
I put the work in, any predictament
in fact it don't matter to me
the rap Oprah Winfrey with less currency
but rock beautifully, no security with me
hard times and prophecy
one idea, two children and three for virginity
pure energy whenever you confront me
I'ma take yours, star wars.

[Chorus]
Star Wars, storm troopers, evil rulers
New manuevers, Black German Luger laser beam

[repeat Chorus]

[Verse 2]
The tables turned now, enter Shaolin where it's cold now
let the Teck blow now
more Jungle nails, Parkhillbillies pour gas on Phillies
blocks where the Babies pick locks
and Women make love to other Women
it's the pillage, your Mother's Sons
no more cold war, it be the poor ones
no radio play, from the hallway to the doorway
they banned us, cease to understand us
rap criminals segregated, player hated
underrated, project recipients
Cappadonna, bag with the marijuana
I'm a late-comer, I spread love last Summer
photographs with the Hummer
a young dumber, bound to get dumber
I speak the real CB, pillage monopoly
talk a XYZ, ain't nothin' like WB
O.T.F., a bag of Uno Sixty
I love how the weed get me
see me whole style tricky
gats under the table, the tables turn now
life is too short and too foul
fake Brothers will get exiled
Staten Island style, chicka-Pow!

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3]
I drop paragraphs of information
my mind starts racin'
I'm in the lot dancin' with the hard-headed
I start to attack on every track when I react
dancehall style, ain't nothin' nice
I came to regulate, Cappachino the great
comin' from all sorts of angles
I close in, my team be the chosen
authorized like a hat tucked in
you get sucked in, catch a repurcussion and crushed in
paralyzed, open your eyes, it's us again
O.T.F. hit you like the blow of death
pulled while you was 'sleep
with or without the gold teeth
crunch and lounge, Q guardin' the door
it's like Comstock, we in the Belly similar to clock
Boys to Men buildin', in the street
Oatmeal and Cream of Wheat
thugs smoke leek, it's like the penile in the ghetto
Palmetto, chocolate trees, crying Babies
rabies to the ringworm, take a turn and get burned
tryin' to be this, realness
Shaolin barracks is very high tempered
sensed it in the water sorrounded by the fairy boats
hallways with pissy cut throats
we forever live, gotta protect the orphanage
the beast men, learn to fight back with the poilcemen
Star Wars...Star Wars.

[Chorus x3]