Verse 1:
Y'all need to dig a little deeper cuz my beats give you the jeepers creepers
The heebie-geebies, terror drippin' outta your speakers
Nonbelievers really need to step the fuck back
We're talkin' crates on crates, you're talkin' racks on racks
I'm talkin' bout spending a full day digging thru wax
You thought you grabbed it all, just know that I'm searchin' thru cracks
Nooks and crannies, on my hands and knees while y'all are standing
How many ways do I gotta say it to understand me?
It's uncanny how I unearth relics
I'm James Chance causin' Contortions are record conventions
Dig a little deeper
Because I see y'all leaving all of these gems at the record store and I just can't believe it
Don't even try and ask this dude about a sample
Just know you probably passed it up, you didn't take your chances
We're bringing life back to music with a beatpad
I'm diggin' deeper than most, hope y'all can see that

Verse 2:
Life is a record store, I dig it like a garden
Keepin' mom and pops in business cuz this industry is starving
I can't be bothered on National Record Store Day
Touch every album with my fingertips, I call it musical foreplay
I don't see no other producers at my spots
Either y'all ain't digging much, or I'm doing a damn good job
At finding places, it's kinda like I spend twice the time in basements
Than y'all do, I saw thru your joints because they're basic
I'll check your history and downloads on your browsers
And see you ain't got the vinyl, that's how you found it
Sample collections from Kevin Nottingham and podcasts
That's all trash, the mere thought I need a barf bag
You're all fags, turned this game into a hustle
The internet has made real artists have to struggle, but
We're bringing life back to music with a beatpad
I'm diggin' deeper than most, hope y'all can see that

Verse 3 (Tha Devol):
Keep these motherfuckin' turntables acid tight
And when I die, I'll be a DJ in the afterlife
And every time I see a mic, you know I grip it tight
Jam Master DJ won't you ship it right
I can't, wait no more for my DJ to rise
I been, on the run since the gangsta took the ride
I been, in many motherfuckin' duct tape spots
Blowin' off the dust of the god damn crate
You ain't never felt no emotion
Like when you pick it up and you see it smokin'
And my bitch can't love me, cuz she know that I love
Going to the record store and I'm fuckin' with hoes
Gone head, grip the mic
And go ahead and be a DJ in the afterlife
Gone head, grip the mic
And when I die I'll be a DJ in my afterlife