Biochemical Equation (Choco G-Dubs remix)

[Verse 1: RZA]
Tempted by the sins of life, the pleasures of lust
With wild imaginings that you can't discuss
Oh, the flesh is weak, it's a struggle for peace
It's a daily conflict between man and beast
We strive for God and a better tomorrow
Still suffering from the unforgettable sorrow
Repent from thy sins, son and walk ye straight
Stop talking all that trash boy and talk ye straight
Afflicted by the pressures of life at every vital point
Still, I wouldn't give an oint'
Or flinch an inch or pitch a pinch
Off the pie or every try to try your wench
Confronted by the devil himself and stay strong
You think you can take the King now meet Kong
Strong as the base of a mountain, there's no counting
How many MCs have sprung from our fountain
Fifty thousand year process to make this combination
I'm not giving mine away to Satan
Although I know that he's awaiting
To get a hold of my biochemical equation
I'ma slip him son, I'ma dip him, son
When I catch the drop on him, I'ma clip him, son
Fifty thousand year process, to make this combination
99 elements, biochemical manifestation
I'm not giving mines away to Satan
Although, I know that he's awaiting
I'ma slip him son, I'ma dip him, son
When I catch the drop on him, I'ma clip him, son

[Verse 2: MF Doom]
Bet ahk, straight to the head with the pet rock
At least til I can get from out this booth, it's like a sweat box
Trade a few bars of head nodding, throw us a stack
Pay him and it's sewed up like thread and bobbin bonus pack
Invest in the first B-boy kid show
Live off skid row with jive talking negros
He wear his beard like a frizzly haired grizzly
And kept his appearances exquisitely rare, where is he?
Is he in the backyard or on your front porch
Or standing in the corner of the club with the blunt torched
You're soft, they say he rhyme like he starving
And sold odds and bodkins to old gods and goblins
Golly, I'm just a pest and your worst best friend
Who mend and rip space-time fabric like polyester blend
Not a hobby for no knobby-kneed lesser men
Or sloppy like the rest of them, they probably need estrogen

[Verse 3: RZA]
Yo, yo, drunk or sober, son, don't lose your composure
Semi off the Remy, mixed with Henny, Moet demi'
Underneath the passenger seat, son, tuck the semi'
Israeli issued automatic black pistol
The cop with the flashlight chew gum as he whistle
Tapped on the glass, roll it down fast
License, registration addressed to your lab
They made insurance, the reason why I pulled you over
Cuz the way you were swerving, sir, you can't be sober
Have you been drinking? Breathe into the breathalyzer
Get out the car, please, follow this exercise, sir
Put one finger on your nose, now from heel to toe
Walk in a straight line, ten paces, down the road
My homeboy Kano, used to do the mashed potato
Or cartwheels and then spin out like a tornado
They used to chase him, right; but son, he would always shake em
Then come and puff bowls and make beats inside my basement
Drunk or sober, never lose your composure
Stress on the brain cause pain and stomach ulcers
If you can't understand, then come closer
We civilized the uncivilized like we supposed to
Drunk or sober, never lose your composure
Mic in your hand, black man stand as a soldier
Stress on the brain, cause pain and stomach ulcers
If you can't understand, then come closer