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The AlchemistThe Alchemist 

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The Alchemist

Alan Daniel Maman (born October 25, 1977), better known as The Alchemist, is an American hip hop producer, DJ and rapper, who hails from Beverly Hills, California. After rising to prominence in the late 1990s as a close associate of Dilated Peoples and Mobb Deep, he went on to produce for many of hip hop's leading artists in the 2000s, and has been hailed as one of the genre's leading producers. He is currently working as a DJ with Eminem and is also signed to his label Shady Records. His earlier nickname was "Mudfoot", in the times of The Whooliganz. more »

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Concrete
If I see or hear-
Yeah, where we at?
If I see you first
Let's get it, what else?

King of the oven mitt, know we run this bitch
A glutton for punishment, keep a submachine gun with a hundred clip
Volatile, don't want no problemo with a problem child
Ain't cop that shit for months, can't come around, niggas not allowed
Cashin' in, always gritted it out, never had a bid
Askin' God, "If this my last resort, how is that a sin?" (There is no sin)
'Cause if a nigga would've went with his first mind
Premeditated, out of all these killers, we the worst kind
Born convicted, braveheart, same armored defenses
Wraith parked in the trenches, same park on them benches
With ARs and extended, sat at the table with spics
He changed the label on my shit, that's trademark infringement
Never forget a face, photographic memory
First time I met JAY was at Novo with Black and Emory
Run my hood, so this shit proceed my reputation
You already know what's understood, don't need no explanation
Where we at wit' it

I never forget a face
You can picture it (uh)

Niggas winnin' Grammys now, five-star livin'
On the 5 South, jammin' out, Heisman magic
Stickin' out an arm and they standin' down, cram it in
Stamp and send the package out, Jackson style
Something wicked inbound, fast
Wind whippin' up disasters in the distant clouds
Hit the basement, the moon full of this roundness
Wolves howlin', cleared up a couple counts
New challenge inbound, blues from the interstate
Sorrowfulness and rule, feudal debates
The brook blew the game, never knew it was a place
Pourin' grapes on the dates, etched on the headstones over the grave
In any case, if I seem distanced and reserved, then give me space
Heavy pinch of herb send me on my way
Head of the herd, making' sure everyone got a plate
Left here disturbed with the look on my face
Bet, my spirit spur when I try to wake
I got on with no delay, gotta play from lessons learned
Got burned when my welcome got overstayed
I hold an old and faithful, I know the aim
And I know it say somethin' 'bout know your neighbor

Whatever happened to that old saying? (Yeah, boy)

Broke generational curses with my cursive (yup)
I understand the game and I know all of the inner workings (I do)
The pain run deep, you only see what it is on the surface
My bitch image squeaky-clean, but the work was sittin' in her cervix (boofed it)
For all the dirt, we might need detergent for cleanin' purpose
Bloody money in the machine circlin', the precursor
You might've even heard my sneakers chirpin' like Peewee Kirkland
Gotta watch where you keep them birds 'cause the people lurkin' (watch)
Feet first, I jump in the deepest current, I'm keepin' it current
Let off a hundred clip reoccurrin' and let 'em clean up the urine (brr)
Grip the steering wheel of the Urus, you malnourished (stop)
All this chicken, niggas came down with salmonella (woo)
Screw the compressor on the TEC, it ain't make a sound like a Tesla
This shit was loud as a whisper (shh), the stick spin you round like a Twister
The whip was messed up, plug you out like a cigarette butt right out the Fisker
(Marci)

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