Aiight boys and girls, take your seats Class is about to start any minute This is the lesson, I'm 'bout to show y'all how to do it [Verse 1:] Uh, make way bitch, I'm comin' through I'm Danny Swain, nigga who the fuck is you? I'm a blast from the past So second-guessin' his ass is a bad suggestion But class is in session I know you're mad and depressed When I brag I'm the best, +Ain't No Half-Steppin'+ Take your pencils out your bag, I'm testin' I'm askin' questions, so grasp the lesson, huh? Number one: who's the realest MC? The answer's "me", b-boy stance is enchantin' And I spit rhymes candidly All I need is a mic, sweatpants and a tee Number two: who's the best producer? It ain't you bruh, guess again My instrumentals will impress your friends Hell yeah, pay attention unless you intend To fail, this is the lesson y'all Aiight for starters y'all need to stop With all that "kill kill, murder murder" shit Y'all niggas ain't ever seen blood Except from your sister's period Don't even try it...c'mon now [Chorus: scratches by Danny] [Pharoahe Monch:] "Y-y-y'all know the name" [Danny:] "D. Swain" [Charli Baltimore:] "G-get it right" [Pharoahe Monch:] "Y'all...know" [Danny:] "D. Swain" [Jadakiss:] "Sl-slow down...slow down" [Verse 2:] D. Swain, I'm the next to set it So put the hatin' to the side, I suggest you dead it Commit to the best, guess I've got a success fetish You'll be staying after class for some extra credit If you don't take notes, you dope Tryin' to pass off as an MC with them fake quotes you wrote Talkin' 'bout you did this and did that With the click-clack, that's your pop's gun nigga, give it back Gotta show these rap cats how to do this, son Producer-slash-MC, I'm a two-for-one Whose rhymes is more clever? I'm a sure-better Designed for your pleasure, you guys is sore-headed Like lime and orange sweaters, your style is tacky You're better off sweepin' trash piles at Zaxby's Meanwhile I'ma smile at that weak Shit you tryin' to kick, kinda quick with the gimmicks Is you in it to win it or what? 'Cause I am...I'ma teach you the rules of the game man Don't rap about shit that you ain't got We see right through you dog...lyin' ass [Chorus] [Verse 3:] I'm teachin' rappers how to keep in practice But they're looking at me funny like I'm speaking backward Sleep in class or read a mag with tig ol' bitties And I'll bet your ass'll fail, and get a 50 On this test that I'm passin' out You better throw all your chances of passin' out When you see your test scores you'll be passin' out And your skills'll still stink, if you pass an outhouse You probably couldn't even tell the difference Your whole flow's like a bowl of Kibbles and Bits and shit I hope you fuckers paid a little attention It's a shame that the dean got rid of detention 'Cause I'd let you sit there 'Til you learn how to get to where you need to be, lyrically Instead of focusing on fame and bucks It's D. Swain, here to help you step your rap game up Pens down It ain't about makin' money all the time, man It's about makin' a statement...learn a lesson [Pharoahe Monch:] "Y-y-y'all know the name" [Danny:] "D. Swain" [Charli Baltimore:] "G-get it right"