Dr. Sherman:

Slow and steady like a tortoise, with Poorpous
Not nervous, with purpose
These so-called wordsmiths can't serve us
We curve stuff like spacetime fabric
You heard it through the grapevine that we do magic
With beat loops on magnets we be attractin' negative types with these positive vibes
Draggin' the line, drawn in the dirt
Stop for the time 'cause time don't work
Shifting spaces, changing places, you might not know what it takes to make this journey
Never gonna know where the Dr. Sherm be
I got the gurney and I got the instruments
And Imma let you know what your next prescription is...
(Funk)
Boiled down, never see me with a royal crown
So just sit back and enjoy the sound, Dr. Sherm and AB hold it down
Let the party get started, guard it from the hardships of starving artists
Regardless, we got this process to abolish that polished nonsense
Take another route, travel out
Pass the backwoods
That's good, ride around
'til you find a town for hiding out
It's an Old West conquest tribal town
Ghost town, no sound, my ghost song, it goes on
My prologue is "Oh God!", written on the roads I rode on... Rode on...

AB-Life:

We define the answer you're seeking
Speaking to the people that dream, but still sleeping
The Dr. is in, you better drop the grin
'Cause it's the doctrine that we're preaching!

Dr. Sherman:

It's scripted somewhere
To the rhythm of the drum, I hit the number that's listed under
The sign that outlines the limits, I live it for the long haul's why I'm in it
Give it up, up and down the map
I left my mark and hearken back to the times I had to start from scratch
And I'm feeling like I'm running from a shark attack
I need a bigger boat
That's rigged with rope, that's made from the threads of an overcoat
Of an older man with a bolder plan
And I got more flavor than a Folgers can
I gotta hold your hand and walk you through
This process that the doctor do
I'm like Dr. Who, I'm time travelin'
Might get hit quick with rhyme javelins
Mind unraveling, calm me down
Just passed through a zombie town, they're the walking dead
I'm choppin' heads of a rabid dog that's not been fed
My Cujo, he's by my side
Vibe with the Triibe, we riding high
I'm in the car, he's in the fur, sure of the purpose of the verbal cure
North by Northwest, force my cortex
Down to the valley where they torched the fortress of the native son, Since day one
Sun rise in the East where the West was won
If the rest was one, I might come back
Until that day, I'm wipin' tracks like Danny Torrance in the maze
Running from Jack in a drunken haze