(Verse 1)
Yeah, I'm indi like Harrison Ford, Chris's aim is like the Olympic games, here to carry the torch, American born, a Minnesotan like Josh Hartnett, tryin' to find my place in a lost market, chillin' with my friends downtown eatin' chicken wings, bounce into the club for the fun of the silly things, girls I see, get me goin' just a little bit, and I'm down for hip hop and the Internet, some tag buildings and write on walls made of bricks, me, I write on Facebook walls and tag people in pics, and kick flows like children playing on the ocean shore, gettin' deeper than the ocean floor, you know it's raw like O.D.B., I got the right stuff like N.K.O.T.B., musically obsessive like O.C.D., and at the end of the day, man, it's only me, so come and get it

(Chorus 1)
Yeah, you know what's up, Christopher Michael Jensen, you know what's up, my lyrics are never endin', you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, the Twin Cities takin' over, you know what's up, me and my brother told ya, yeah, you know what's up, you don't believe me, let me show ya, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up

(Verse 2)
Not everything is PC like a Pentium ad, writin' things that boil the blood with a pen and a pad, it's the 21st century, why do people still flip, I say erase the lines like Bill Hicks, no limits like Lenny Bruce, when we do, what we want, and that's my vow like a wedding groom, it's divine when the rhymes move past my Adam's apple, rippin' the curtain for certain in your tabernacle, see, we're gods on the mic, so they need the church to market us, sprayin' flows on beats like vegetable gardeners, some are successful and make a mill, others do even better and they make a bill, but I wanna stay as real as Bun B when it comes to money and make a trill, so everyday until I'm six underground like the Sneaker Pimps song, I'ma throw it all at the wall and make it stick on, no doubt about it

(Chorus 2)
Yeah, you know what's up, I put it down for the people, you know what's up, to my friends and family, yo, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, every color and creed, yeah, you know what's up, to the people overseas, you know what's up, north, south, west, east, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up

(Verse 3)
I went through a long period of writer's block, the mic was dropped, and it screwed up my rhymes like Michael Watts, but I started to type a lot and found my stride again, now I'm better than ever as I set my eyes on top, see, I was formed and born inside the uterus walls, to speak and seek out the truth of it all, talkin' and walkin' through a big hall, towards a light that's bright as the music biz falls, but it's a new era, and I'm anxious as hell, to kick my foot in the door, so I can break in and sell, it's the lyrical wordsmith, with twists and loops to what I write like cursive, with urges to hang around women likes purses, and I'm still unfulfilled, but I keep searchin', yeah, I talk a lot, but what I got to say, always makes me feel better with the songs I make, so I'm tellin' you

(Chorus 3)
Yeah, you know what's up, in the name of creativity, you know what's up, over this or a different beat, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, raise up your cell phone, yeah, you know what's up, am I gonna stop, hell no, you know what's up, one last time, bellow, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up, yeah, you know what's up