Story

You can buy When the Belt Changes Hands from CD Baby or Bandcamp.

Lyrics

These monitors are frigid
So timid it sounds liquidated when I kick it
A flicker quick to gray it seems like twilight’s tinted
Symptomatic for a minute but I stay resistant
So there’s this:
I may not be as young as I once was
but this dub bus rides a front rush like it’s lifted
I bomb facts, ignore your quips and gaffes
Drift past these hip cats who have to just sit and laugh
Why you gotta wear jeans when the weather’s nice?
You get your indie card pulled if your legs see light?
I used to rock shorts till Christmas vacay
With ’89 Flights and a bowl cut fake fade
Playing K-Tel tapes of Dana Dane
Watching Danny Ainge shoot J’s on the parquet
Sticks Downey and the grip is Wockenfuss
The kid after school knockin’ out the chalk dust
Lost touch? No, I found some middle ground
Back to the lab pounding out a little sound
I still got it like my name was Ralph Malph
Filled with the clout of the sound that I drown out
Found out, it was bound to happen
I got ink on my fingers, Talik
Hand me a napkin

I’ll be the all-consumer like Velocity Girl
In between James Jones like my name is Earl
I’m with (Sticks Downey) and they’re down to brow beat
Rowdy feet like they wanna surround me
So pipe up, ‘cause my rhymes they might just
Smolder sheets of paper, turn ‘em into white dust
I’ve made cuts like Bruti with shears in hand
Holding up the remnants, showing all the cheering fans
A grappler-and for my finishing move
I’ll be like Big Scoob when I show and prove
So strap on your hipster pants and waddle around
Before Hot Topic trademarks that maudlin frown
Would you call it a sidewinder? A blow to the scene?
When your eyeliner crusted up your cell phone keys?
Let’s break ice like this (so sick of flailing)
Let’s make nice like kids (hear what I’m saying?)
Unpredictable on time, we canvas the area
Cylindrical mop-top like John Candeleria
Super sinister beat nice, the motion is steady
I’m bullying MCs like Eddie Pinetti
So parry the merriment, assign with a slight jab
Tighten up the left, I align with a right hand
Growing a beard, I’ll end up like Billy Gibbons
Or comb my hair over like I was Gerald Tibbons
The man with the pasture park The man with the gas to spark
Up late watching tapes of Bohemia Afterdark

So I’ll be playing dirty like a camp of rich kids
Fooling you all like Plimpton did with Sidd Finch
Call it a warm up ‘cause I’m just getting stretched out
And lest you forget why all competitors went south
I’ll play the Iron Sheik and let the people decide
While my mind is like a chasm flowing deep and wide
So like Kirk Gibson when he’s hobbled and limping
I still got a few good cuts left in me
Forget the brass tacks, let’s get down to hard nails
I’m cleaning out my mind and you found the yard sale
Kick off your shoes and relax your mainframe
I’m filling in the blanks like Dawson did on Match Game

Lyrics

I came here to break the language
To leave some modifiers dangling
So if you fly through some lines trying to get a high five
I’ll reply with a sigh then I’ll leave you hanging
Splintered like a fractured racquet
When I crack like Buddy Hackett
But I bored to the core, mowing over floorboards
When I tore through the door and dropkicked my jacket
In the year I made it to twelve
Watching Belvedere and Tracy Wells
If it’s closed I press it open
Know it all like Wesley Owens
In the zone like Simone interrogating a skell

We deflate the day
Generate then hibernate
Assuaged by all the plays we made
It’s a sustained delay
The replay turns to gray
We’re always just a frame away

So this is how I’m lashing back
Highflying, death defying like a scaffold match
Or break out the Russian strap
You had enough of that?
Slide on the dog collar so our neck’s attached
Sit for me till the work is through
6-4-3 like we’re turning two
So poke a frozen rope and hope to go for broke
Scope out my flows like you’re searching for clues
Keep trying for a brainy segue
You’re just recycling in a lame and vague way
But I keep it high brow, see
Genius like Jankowski
Like Jackie Earle Haley ‘cause I’m breaking away

I’m going through this stuff like water
Getting so heavy that you’ll need a spotter
So to brace your back, you better face the facts
Take your place, Horshack I’m coming back like Kotter
I give it up to the city’s persistence
You made it cool to be washing dishes
You got the mod look down
Your band’s got a hot new sound
We’re all so proud of your urban existence
So this is how I waste my time:
Counting all the spelling errors that you make online
And you’re making it quite a job, the more you write in your blog
Stop the grammar cops at the drop of a dime

Lyrics

(Wockenfuss)
Me and Biff react like chemical synapse
So brace your shaky foundation for a full collapse
Stutter step with my juke moves, eschewing my loose screws
I’ll take you to the point of no return like Nu Shooz
Selective memory, yeah I almost forgot
About the days when Dusty Rhodes wore polka dots
And I’m watching Dibiase, yeah I’m viewing the tapes
He’s giving Million Dollar Dreams until they’re blue in the face
And he keeps opining “Everyone’s got a price”
And he keeps on smiling but it ain’t nothing nice
And you gotta hand it to him for the way that he felt:
That if you can’t beat the champion, then you make your own belt
So yo, be warned You’ll need a tough defense
‘Cause I’m a phenom like I’m Hunter Pence
You got me in the stretch, I keep you on with a close look
They call me Paper Champion for my stacks of notebooks
So, yo look It’s not an option, you gots to go
While my career’s longer than Jesse Orosco’s
So talk slow I’m still trying to figure out
How all those small words fit in such a big mouth
So here’s how we go about the task at hand:
I expand all my glands like I’m Plastic Man
And we connect the set across the states and time zones
Creating a new order like the lines of Empire clones
Like Brian Jones, you’re a sinking stone
While I’m steady Moretti than Fabrezio

(Pocaroba)
I don’t need no has-been messing in my corner
Laying out for the line drive like Bob Horner
Just like Foreigner, I’m as cold as ice
Genius of the rap game like Gary Grice
I’m very nice when I step in the booth
Other rappers bite rhymes till they chipped their tooth
They don’t spit the truth They just rap by numbers
Biff and Johnny-still cool as cucumbers
This is poodoo, like Sebulba told little Ani
Come alive in the playoffs like Fernando Pisani
Like Leaping Lanny throwing Frisbees to the crowd
A rap bounty hunter in the city in the clouds
I’ll make you say “oh no” like your name was Daz
Or when the North Star jerks poured the shake on Spaz
Or when Black Flag tried to go from punk to jazz
Or when we thought the CA stood for “Crazy Azz”
I’m a West Coast Avenger like Hawkeye
Do my own stunts like Wonderman or The Fall Guy
Don’t call me Small Fry, I’m not that teeny
But I might kill a bear with Jerry Aldini
Like Marvin Berry with gauze on my hand
Like Cameron Frye, I’m gonna take a stand
Believe me man, we’re unbeatable pros
Like Jennifer Grey before she lost her nose
To those who throw hubcaps like Tonya:
You’re a paper champion like Verne Gagne
This is how deep it can get:
It reads “Pocaroba” on my birth certificate

(Wockenfuss)
To make sure we got it while the getting’s good
I keep barking up dust like I’m spitting wood
I chalk it up to experience and a level head
The people talk and I hear it, I got incredible cred
And I stay well read, stacks of books on my nightstand
A devious man like Sarsgaard in Flightplan
So give me your attention ‘cause I’m saying it once
I’m sending you to school like I made you a lunch
So come on paper champion, come on Creed
We’re bringing the doom like Ron Simmons and Butch Reed
And when the masks come off, we’ll make it plain to see: 
It’s Wockenfuss and Pocaroba reppin’ CAC

(Pocaroba)
My prediction for the match? Pain
Like there’s no DQ and Fuji brought his cane
Rappers want the fame, but make terrible music
And disappear faster than Big Bully Busick
I handle the mic like Mike McGuirk
Destroy oh boy like the New Bomb Turks
I might yell “One punch!” like Jordan Tootoo
Then skate away and laugh like Jarkko Ruutu
So if Wock is Stan Lane, then call me Bobby Eaton
It’s us against the world like Warren against the Cretins
So don’t call us pencil neck geeks
We let the people decide like the Iron Sheik

Lyrics

Let’s go I’m hard headed like Destro
Set to knock the tribal arm band tat off your best bro
You’re next though, so best believe you me
When I swear to god like I was Winton Dupree
My name is Johnny Wock and I could spout for days
I keep it dignified like Lord Alfred Hayes
I made the scene, but when I hooked up TiVo
I decided that I’m through being cool like Devo
So I divide my time between the TV I’m watching
And spending nights online clockin’ sneakers in auctions
But that’s the life of BTB I guess
On the couch, obese feline on my chest
I don’t obsess and stress, I’m still calm and collected
Spending time with these rhymes that have gone neglected
I abuse the text, so we’ll see who’s next
To get their set wrecked from my side suplex

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
Already got you choking, yeah you’re turning blue

Words so fluid you should hook up an IV
Fill you full of needles till you look like a pine tree
A mainline, or just a trick and a ploy
To get you jonesin’ for more like Mark Renton and Sick Boy
I pass the pill because I’m playing the point
With a pedal to the metal like I’m AJ Foyt
So while my skills are quick and my words are wily
You keep playing the dumb guy like John C Reilly
When the weekend comes, I make a pot of coffee
Kick back and watch Big Daddy Kane in Posse
Write rhymes so fat they’ll have you trying Fen-phen
You better dream on like you were Brian Benben
You get no reception like a broken tuner
Rhymes so recycled they’re labeled post-consumer
You can’t compete, my words slick like Brylcreem
And I take it to the limit like a lyrical kill screen

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
And I got the gumption so I’ll see it through

Sticks Downey, with no plans to stop yet
Bass drum kicks, it makes it stick like Aqua Net
Cinched up like a guy in a tight suit
And I got more beets than my man Dwight Schrute
It’s quite moot ‘Cause while you’re humming your next hook
I’m kicking out words like I punted a textbook
I’m not saying I’m a Mensa member
But if my head cocks back like a Pez dispenser
Hold out your hands I’m dispersing the sweet stuff
Words so rough they’ll leave your eardrums scuffed
So yo check this-you look smart so you know
I’m serving MCs like I was Artie Bucco
Sticks is it, and yeah I’m making that known
Wits so quick my brain strains my backbone
I keep coming back like Moises Alou
We’re the chosen few and I’m destroying you

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
Search your feelings, you know it to be true

Lyrics

Words come quick, I crow hop and wing it
Perfect like Curt Hennig in a neon singlet
When I bring it, I straight hammer it down
Rattle off the rhymes until they clamor around
It’s that sound My most productive winter yet
‘Cause Kathleen Hanna told me to get off the internet
They call me Wocky Love, hon, check the strategy
Played the bad seed, now the rap league’s mad at me
Had it tied down and I smacked it loose
Until maybe you thought I was the Packard Goose
It’s perspective, but my vision’s blurred
I’ll keep twitching the ignition till the engine purrs
The Grand Poobah, and you’ll take more than a hit
When you’re landing on a tuba in the orchestra pit
The verbs turn, keep churning ‘cause I’m burning hot
So, best clear the Leopard Lodge ‘cause I’ve earned my spots

Make you listen while I recite a letter or two
I’m taking the position that I’m better than you
I play out to get the layabouts back on their feet
I’ll be that phone ringing when you’re fast asleep
So I set the coordinates, where we need to go
We’ll be takin’ care of business like we’re BTO
I’ve been meaning to ask you why you wear those chains
And why that crappy tat looks like varicose veins
I’m not a fashion plate, but I’ll clown your digs
‘Cause eyebrow rings went out with powdered wigs
So hesitate you’re in my wake ‘cause I’m burning dust
My name is Johnny Wockenfuss, I’d like to earn your trust
So while you’re saying you’re a zero, yeah you’re feeling flat
I’ll be playing the hero like I’m William Katt
So are you hearing that? Are we as clear as we can be?
I’m exposing shams like The Amazing Randi

I can see you gawking ‘cause I act so strange
But I feel like Walken when I’m at close range
So if I live to tell the secrets I’ve been told
I’ll put my life on hold until I’m twice as bold
So like ice is cold and when it melts it’s wet
I can change the state of matters like a chemistry set
So put on the safety goggles I’ll be shocking stuff
You wanna check the credentials? It’s Dr. Wockenfuss
So step back from the reaction and prepare to be floored
‘Cause I’m cutting up the rhythms like I carry a sword
Downey comma Sticks if you’re taking attendance
And I’m still trying to figure out where Sherilyn Fenn went
Like to stay on topic but I get sidetracked
Thoughts slipping through my fingers like the mic is cracked
But I put ‘em all together, get ‘em back in line
Polish up the composition, paragraphs that shine

Taking cuts with the donut in the warm-up circle
I’ve been working on my timing till my arms turn purple
So if you’re bearing down to deliver a pitch
I’m ready like Joe Morgan when I quiver and twitch
I take it line by line, my method’s tried and true
Intimidating opposition like I’m Vida Blue
So if I smile at you, it’s just my chosen tactic
Reasserting my views because I’m so didactic
So if you’re seeking the thesis, better check the verse
Seems that all these bits and pieces are non sequiturs
But I roll it out and bind it like a printing press
Small minds define it as simile obsessed
But I can plant the hook and I might jab you too
I got fancy footwork like the Big Ragoo
Put down my pencil, the final draft and it’s accurate
Scope the footnotes, my references are immaculate

Lyrics

(Coolzey)
Tearing at the bottom of the trash bag
Trying to get the good shit before they toss it into the landfill
Staying till the end of the last keg
You never understood that that was my name upon the handbill
Playing at a house party, playing at a dive bar
Might pull a George Brett, rock a little pine tar
You just stare, with your putter snare no par
Best MC that you ever heard so far
Go far, just like a well-flung Frisbee
Coolzey is back with an axe jack, you miss me?
Kiss me on the bloody lips, ‘cause I’ve been eating kids
Feeling really good now, because I’ve been beating kids
Cheating kids, taking all the candy got a sweet tooth
Document my dopeness just in case you need proof
No booth, record my vocals in the bedroom
Shut off my celly to obtain the max headroom
Just a mere flesh wound, man you only grazed me
Drink a 30 pack with my main man Lazy
Public School Records is the label that pays me
Still looking for an MC that amazes me
Like Psycho Les, Big Daddy Kane, and Thes One
Insight, Biz Markie, and Edan
Lord Finesse, Greg Nice and MCA
The Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Roxanne Shante
Ill Bill and Prodigy, Fresh Prince and Akbar
Godfather Don, MF Doom and Chuck D are
Probably the ones that paved the way
For a brother like Coolzey to enter the fray
So make way, ‘cause I see red and I’m charging
Fucked around in school, drew the pictures in the margins
Of my notebooks while I was taking notes
Told you in “Director” that I was counting votes
Website is updated every other month or two
Sometimes I can’t tell pitch black from navy blue
Baby, who told you that life would be easy?
It’s 2007 with Coolzey and BTB

(Foots)
So, do you know what you’re going through?
Do you like this style of rap that I’m showing you?
The way I flow for you?

(Wockenfuss)
From OR to IA we dial in the frequency
And Z’s got his cell phone, he’s dying to speak with me
Sucka MCs and CAC, the crews when we threw down
Now Coolzey’s rollin’ solo when he cruises through town
The Buttery Lords got literal at their last gig
Told BP Fresh to break a leg and he snapped it
And I’ll be lighting mics like a torch and we carry it
Swinging the cord, we rope ‘em in like a lariat
So here’s the full function of some words in a tight verse
You’re so locked down you should be wearing a striped shirt
The thrill of the syllables, I’m not holding ‘em back
I’m killing all the filler, yeah I’m folding it flat
So take your place and make haste, ‘cause I got a story to tell
With ways to make plays like I was Ken Oberkfell
Check my velocity as I detail the moves
And take it back to the Mecca like I’m CL Smooth
We’re traveling salesmen and the words are our wares
Chalk me up on the big board ‘cause I’m moving my share
The name is Wockenfuss, it’s on my business card
Got you stuck in reruns like you were Crystal Bernard
Every jam I play, another notch in my fanny pack
I hit a bad patch but the sanity’s back
We got an APB on a Uostwis R Dewoh
You’re starting off with Greek Town? Better pick me up an gyro
‘Cause my banter’s so enchanting I can still get real
And spiel like the Real Deal With Bill McNeal
So here’s the top story from today’s big broadcast:
I’m lost as Ned since the day that Maude passed
It’s twenty aught whatever, me and Z in collab mode
We tightened up the spikes and we’re trampling mad toes
My mental capacity? Yeah, as far as that goes
My dome’s so big I should play for the Astros

(Coolzey)
Jerks whole networks evaporate through time
At a faster rate than the human eye can navigate
Elaborate plans are cold laid and executed
While exuberant fans’ love for music is deep rooted
I sleep zooted when I make a new hit number
In my headphones on repeat while I’m in deep slumber
I keep underestimating the value of humility
But paradoxically, I don’t take pride in my ability
Lyrical agility is laudable
Rhyming hip hop over tracks that is audible
Excitable, bitable, ‘cause even the best did
Please kid, your album CD should be rewritable
So I could dub it over with some dope Dr Dre shit
I gotta admit, I’d rather listen to my mix

(Wockenfuss)
The mix with Sticks that makes the kids just pitch fits
With more ways to get you than a pitcher who switch hits
So get this-while you’re coming in last place
I’m playing 3rd Bass, giving MCs the gas face
So let me make sure I’m making myself blunt
I’ll clown you then I’ll pound you like I’m Nelson Muntz
Not exactly the Juice Crew, it’s just him and me
Coolzey and BTB dropping the symphony
I’m conducting the proceedings, you can call me the maestro
My scan is panoramic, got it all in my sights so
My rhymes are anti-static, there’ll be no dead air
I’m rocking here, there, and everywhere
I get loose like 3-5-7 from Oaktown
The way I broke it down you should know by now

Lyrics

Pull up the anchor, we set sail like a galleon
I get down with real people like I’m Byron Allen
There’s a plan, and I’m sticking to it
Words thick as a brick I got more bulk than a Buick
So put your hands down The Q&A is finito
Gonna make my point like I’m draining a free throw
Mr. Johnny Wock I got a beat to rock
And I got you all open like a key in a lock
Can you name an MC who is more deserving?
Gonna put you on ice like George Gervin
Do it piece by piece, like a car I’m parting
Am I getting too mean? Call me Harvey Martin
S-T-I-C-K to the S
We got all the answers ‘cause we made up the test
So yo (place your bets) and start running the clock
And prepare for the payoff ‘cause this one’s a lock

Show me something I still flow for function
The big score awaits so place your bets

Dispense with the pleasantries ‘cause I’m barreling through
Heading to the fifth dimension frenchin’ Marilyn McCoo
The beat hits, and it marks the spot
Causing chaos like a heavy metal parking lot
Convene on the scene my team’s taking no shorts
Running up the score show you up on your home court
Touring through your city you can watch us play
I got a hardcore committee like I’m Awesome Dre’
No need to sleep because I’m living the dream
You keep the beat Talik? (I’m a rhythm machine)
So be suspect, the wild card in the deck
You don’t know what’s next A sweatin’ nervous wreck
So while you’re mopping your brow, I’m surveying events
I’m the lord of the land you should be paying me rent
I’ll be tossing knuckleballs like I’m Charlie Hough
Do you hear me knocking? Yeah, I’m calling your bluff

High performance Yeah, I sound like an ace
Take notes from fIREHOSE ‘cause I’m down with the bass
So save face and just hand me the title
I’m the voice of triumph like I’m Robert Smigel
It’s a money flop, get set as it plays
Make you bunny hop like you were Ceppie Maes
So let’s say you throw a vitrioled tantrum
I’ll still make the putout like I was Tito Landrum
The pit boss told me you and your pals were dumb
So, don’t cross the dealer if you value your thumbs
While you’re low balling, placing bets in Reno
I do damage with a pen like Pesci in Casino
The roulette wheel, deal, then win more
You wanna push it? Good, it’s Spinderella’s big score
No more bets It’s time to let the fate ride
And call me Commando ‘cause you’re looking at snake eyes

Lyrics

(Wockenfuss)
I try to stay low key I think I’m subtle enough
But if I need to move a crowd, I just butter ‘em up
And make cuts so deep that they might just scar
With some help from the peeps hooked on vitamin R
So if you need to step it up, give a yell or just call us
We’ll be in the Player’s Club, chilling with Telly Savalas
They comped my suite, microphone and a P.A.
Serving up the meat I slug ‘em out like Lee May
Tested by the wack, yeah our foes are hollerin’
So best step back if you’re lactose intolerant
Sure, you got love-‘cause you haven’t scored yet
Then I smack you with the racquet like I’m Jim Cornette
In the great Northwest It’ll be wet tomorrow
But I’m blessing the rain like I was Jeff Porcaro
Make you move to this like Cathy Dennis
Four MCs individually wrapped for freshness

Sticks Downey
Wockenfuss-making beats with Talik and we got it covered
Buttery
Dr Marble, Baybee Powder Fresh, and the Reverend Hubbard
Sticks Downey
Keeping Portland fresh and yes, we get down for one another
Buttery
So don’t forget-we got it all wrapped up like sticks of butter

(Hub)
We’ve known Wockenfuss since the cretaceous era
And his rhymes are even nicer than Michael Cera
That’s why we’ve been down longer than a submarine
‘Cause we go together like drugs and teens
Are we better than you? Demonstrably
Don’t make me shit in your hat like Johnny V
Buttery Lords and Sticks Downey making their mark
Dangerous like a werewolf riding a shark
Leaping from the swimming pool describing an ark
Who the hell let those guys into the water park?
Once again, we’ve assembled this Megaforce
Stomping all the competition like a brontosaurus
So you better give us our accolades
Or it’ll be like you yelled out “Hey Kool-Aid!”
When we bust down your wall like Big Jim Slade
And the capital of Nebraska is Lincoln

(Dr Marble)
I’m puttin’ sticks together in a bundle
I’m hidin’ under your bed like a trundle
Wake me up at night when you grumble?
Kick your bottom and out the bed you tumble
You’re like Goldilocks and we’re the B-bears
Eatin’ four food groups and three squares
With two sticks of butter, one in a rubber
And I rub it all into your p-hairs
Now you take one stick-you break it
And you take another stick-you break it
But unity is strength so stake it
Kill the vampire (don’t wake it)
We knock it out the park when we jam it
Don’t just say “fuck it” say “dental damnit”
Now you say I rhyme worse than Lanny Poffo?
Man, that shit was cold like Hoth, yo

(BP Fresh)
Keeping P-Town fresh, that’s for certain
Dropping shit hard like an iron curtain
I’ll make a mash-up of HBO shows-watch me
Take away your puffy with a Benadryl brownie
First we score from the sherpa then take the entourage to the circus
Oops-I just farted (Nah, he did it on purpose)
Spend the night with me girl, I promise
You’re gonna wake up with more than breakfast
I may date a vegan
Maybe a pagan
But I’m never going to Burning Man
And never jumping off the stage again
I may steal my flow from DMX again and say
“You’re just like your actor friend, Marty Flynn”
‘Cause NEW DQT keep it thuggidy
Me and Johnny Johnny Wock rolling deep with CD Baby

Lyrics

I keep my head on straight A great veteran craftsman
Out the gate I dictate, you’re taking letters like aspirin
If I backspin, you can claim electric boogaloo
Don’t mask your glancing, I expect a look or two
So pull it in tight, go ‘head and take a knee
Providing lines for Sticks like I traced a tree
So if you’re facing me, just grab the towel and toss it
I’m a firewalker, you can ask Lou Gossett
Create the sound around percussion loops
So let’s break it on down like discussion groups
And dissect the specs like some unhinged glasses
Might not melt your face, but I can singe your lashes
I’m never fazed by malaise I shake it off and sit tight
Crazy these days, I’m drinking coffee at midnight
Spurs the words, don’t wanna switch to Sanka
Till I’m heard around the world like I was hitting off Branca

Do it like my duty yo, I’m bumping the rafters
I’ve been living in the studio like Jeff “Skunk” Baxter
Put my mind to these lines then already we sold you
It’s like it’s 1985 and I’m Eddie Fiola
Half pipe or the flatlands with my trick routine
Grabbing mics with a backhand and I’m fielding ‘em clean
These syllables’ll fill you full so stock up on Tums
Shooting beats from the hip It’s like I pocketed drums
I don’t knock it and run I wait for doors to open
The only way you’ll be down? I’ll stop your forward motion
You got a sorcerer’s potion? Man, that’s just dry ice
My metaphorical quotient? Yeah, it might suffice
Nice, tight, and precise wasting words is for amateurs
Write my line up and then observe like a manager
I blur the parameters, pixelate the restrictions
Making sure that the wack Rx’ed out like prescriptions

Eating you up, a sketchy Texas leaguer
So watch the tough hop, it might deflect to the bleachers
It’s a knee jerk I got it all and it’s humbling
Talik on the keys Sometimes we call him Al Bumbry
And it’s funny-you think your path is set
But you’ll be in the bargain bin next to a Jackyl cassette
It’s what you get for rope-a-dopin’ the same old
Here’s hoping that my flows’ll get you open like gatefolds
So take hold, these roads are lined with chaos
Battled back to 3-2 and now it’s time for the payoff
But you’re way off and it’s beginning to hurt
Your team plays like Peter Gabriel-they’re digging in dirt
I’ll just begin in first and bypass the formalities
Your pep talk’s a crock, man, you rallied a fallacy
I tally analogies I’m a rap stat geek
Poring over box scores until the track’s complete

Lyrics

(Pocaroba)
I’m on a warpath like Masskontrol
Walking down to the ring to “Jive Soul Bro”
Volkoff’s on my left, Iron Sheik’s on my right
Interrupt the anthem and we’ll have a fight
So sit tight It’s Sticks Downey and Biff
We’ll call you whosawannastink if we get real miffed
So get this: if you’re fast we’re faster
I’ll crash through your set like the Shockmaster
Just give me a mic and a stage and a beat
And I’ll dance for a quarter like Handsome Pete
You think we’re beat? Listen, this is important
I was laying on the mat playing Ricky Morton
I’m the people’s choice like National Guard
You’re non-existent like the wolfman’s nards
From the golden age like ’84 Topps crads
You’re selling t-shirts that say “Biff Is Rad”  

(Wockenfuss)
I’m a wordsmith They’re like tools of the trade
More lines in my head than an old school fade
So like Kid ‘n Play, me and Biff are just 2 hype
We’ll leave you with egg on your face like a food fight
You’ve lost your mind You wanna challenge the siblings?
We’ll be polishing rhymes while you’re standing there scribbling
Here to leave MCs blowing in the breeze
And best believe similes still spread like disease
You wanna test me? Please, you better plan protection
We’ll be breaking up teams like the Can-Am Connection
So select your weapon, be it pencil or pen
We’re gonna leave it to the people ‘cause we’re sensible men
So if you see me start to lag like my strength’s diminished
All it takes is one hot tag and you’re finished
Biff and Johnny We’ve toppled off our rockers
And we’ll be bustin’ heads like a double noggin knocker

(Both)
100 thousand times one now we’re having some fun
Kinda like Greg Sage ‘cause we’re living on the run
The blinding sun that’ll suck you dry
It’s a piece of cake when Biff’s by my side
On a coattail ride I’ll be swimming in your wake
I’ll be Thunder Bolton like my name was The Steak
So take out your comb I’m thinkin’ ‘bout revenge
We’ll let the people decide how the bout will end
So throw up your hands like a ground rule double
I’ll retire the side like my name was Carl Hubbell
Big trouble So while you’re cutting a promo
I’ll donkey kick you like I’m Sal Bellomo
Play it back in slo-mo as I’m shooting through
Set a land speed record like I’m Husker Du
So who knew? We break words, yeah we’re smashing letters
‘Cause when we’re good we’re good, but when we’re bad we’re better

Lyrics

If the mist is true, the sky is crystal blue
A fistful of milk thistle, I got nothing to do
Aside from brushing the dew from my brand new shoes
And clutching for the rushing of a place I once knew  
And yeah, it’s you know who, the guy with three TVs
The official initials are listed BTB
I spit game in your face like Roberto Alomar
Hurt you how you are, you’re saying au revoir
Lyrical reservoir trapped inside my brain
That keeps me holding tight and rapping right like cellophane
And it’s a hell of a name: Johnny Wockenfuss
My show’s got more flow than the Aqueducts
So while you’re talking tough and puffing up that chest plate
I’m prepping the Waste for the web’s next update
The synthy sounds as the disc it spins ‘round
I’m bringing the new style like my name was Vin Brown
Living in a town where the rain it rages
Had to take my notebook and laminate the pages
So I don the windbreaker and I hit the pavement
Race the rats then lay back and wonder where the day went

Sight unseen
Find a way
To the end of the page
End the scene
Right away
We’re on top and we’re here to stay

I alter the images, fade the light so I bite down
Dismantle all the grammar till I find the right noun
The blitz of the senses, I’m getting rugged like stonewash
So enter the denim and never mention the faux pas
I’m working for the weekend then I work some more
Moderating Sly Records lurking on the board
I’m taking inventory, each and every aspect
The stacks of tacky rappers that I haven’t deemed wack yet
While you mug eccentric and it’s weak and phony
I got a slugging percentage like I was Steve Balboni
So to be my crony, I gotta jump you in
I’ll make you watch Short Cuts from beginning to end
It’s like a discipline when I grip this pen
So if I’m whispering you better listen in
It’s hush hush, so secretive it’s classified
The blood rush, cease breathing till you’re glassy eyed
And all the passersby, they’re taking cell phone pics
As I build up the lyrics and I blow ‘em to bits
So if my shoulders twitch, it’s just a stress release
It’s the breath that I catch when I’ve said my piece

Lyrics

Embrace the rhyme scheme, hold it close to your heart
I don’t take time preening, I’m verbose from the start
You want a part? Well take a number, buddy
I’ve seen you flubbing lines like a clumsy understudy
At least your girl’s got style I can’t knock how she rocks it
Gold necklace with a pic of Johnny Wock in the locket
On the docket, we got some major plans
I hope you’re not shocked when the belt changes hands
I moved up through the ranks and now my name’s got clout
Made a start with a spark while you were flaming out
Think you know my reputation ‘cause it always precedes me
Ring the bell, we’ll lock it up, you’ll be defeated easy
I got ink on my knuckles from my fountain pen
Slamming heads on turnbuckles, crowds are counting to ten
I’ve got prowess, so never count me out
I got you blowin’ more lines than Tim Raines and Steve Howe
About now, you seem addled and shaken
Shell-shocked from the toll that the battle’s been taking
Gave you a chance to be and MC and you blew it

There’s work to be done (and I’m on the clock)
Poised and I’m ready (on the starting block)
I’m causing blood clots, better call the doc
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)
Got you introspective (like you’re taking stock)
I’m cruising to the finish (like a racing yacht)
Beating the buzzer like a half court shot, yo
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)

I shoot rhymes like a jumper from the top of the key
Have your back to the hardwood ‘cause you’re flopping on D
You wanna see the way I get my shots in?
I’ll microwave you like I’m Vinnie Johnson
So terse the muscle, I contort these lines
Working up your rebuttal but the floor is mine
So as I filibuster on these skills I’m bustin’
The little will you muster and you still got nothing
Blowing up your spot like a Screaming Mimi
You’ll be in no man’s land hanging with DB Sweeney
So check the effects of the letters that jet
Directly out of my neck and hit you dead in the chest
Send you back to the lab when I smash your beaker
Leave you with your head in the trash like the Eeker
Impeccable timing, yeah I studied it well
Have you watching the clock like I was Buddy Revell
So it’s a glove slap, and then we duel at dusk
It’s like a brush back, just to let you know what’s what
Don’t make me get abusive like that guy Ray Pruit

Got extensive knowledge (if we’re talking shop)
Feeling assured (yeah I got my props)
It’s all downhill ‘cause I’m on the top
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)
It’s getting heavy (like a cinder block)
Got you going in circles (like a spinning top)
I hear words in my head and they just won’t stop
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)

Finesse with the method, it’s a delicate touch
No stress under pressure, yeah they tell me I’m clutch
So while I plot my points and put ‘em all on a graph
Your rhymes are so bloated they should call you Falstaff
So grab your goblet and throw back some mead
Raps so full of sap it’s like you tapped a tree
And as for me? I guess my ways are set
Because I still haven’t given up on VHS
The beats are fresh and the raps are flawless
Wanna be somebody like I’m Blackie Lawless
Set it all in motion, instigate the track
Like the Unknown Comic, put your face in a sack
I got a tasty snack, linguistics on a plate
And you got more bad English than John Waite
So let’s contemplate but not move too far
I’ll make you pump up the volume like MARRS with two R’s
So park the car, without a fuss I’m walkin’
We could start to spar but trust I’m not done talkin’
Tried to coop me up-I broke loose and flew it

It’s all wrapped up (I just tied the knot)
Got me grandstandin’ (watch me spike the rock)
Caught me at the apex, I’m the brightest spot
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)
So here’s how you do it (it’s the longest shot)
Stay loose and be fluid (so it’s on the dot)
Swing for the fences like the Sultan of Swat
(Johnny Johnny Wock Johnny Johnny Wock)