The Hit Song
[Cut in Voice]
People always asking me - man, how do you make a hit record, well here's what I do

[Abdominal & DJ Format]
Holding a king and a seven I'm feeling lucky, so I was like hit me
At which point my phone rang, and it hit me
That I had mentioned to Format he should hit me
Off on the celly, put my cards down and hit the... top button
"Andy, it's Matt let me ask you something mate
I've just come from London, you know we're meeting with the label
They seem to want another hit, are you available?"
I was like, dude, you know what to do
Peruse through a few new beats and promptly hit me
Off with a beat, tape or better yet a disc so when I'm writing I can swiftly
Rewind the hittin' drums, couple of weeks of hits, I'll have written some
And I'll be kickin' 'em, just as soon as I can hit Eng-er-land
I hope that my plane won't be swingin' from, hittin' turbulence
Or else I'll be hit with disturbances
Down in my gut, you know nervousness
But when we safely hit terra firma it's
Only right the first thing we hit our palms together
Because that's been the hip-hop greeting like for forever
After that I'll probably wanna hit the mic booth
Adjust the mic, so I don't hit my right tooth
Once I hit my comfort level, hit record
And soon enough we'll have another hit record
In fact even though the song isn't done
By my count that was 18 hits alone
And it's only verse number one
[Start Hook]
I use the word hit in many sen-(senses)
Listen how many hits I manage to condense in the first verse
In the second I'm trying to rhyme as many words I can find sound like (hit!)
In the last third verse, hit-related metaphors
Example: I write more hits than Matt's got hit samples
[End Hook]

Abs and Format, not doing what others did
(Step in the studio, it's just another hit)

[Same Cut In Voice]
Alright, I want you to listen to this next little verse
And if you feel like it, sing along
And if you don't wanna sing along, maybe you can clap your hands

[Abdominal]
As I sit, infinite scripts, like a list, it's from the tip of the Bic
Clutched betwixt my digits, (lit) strictly from the itty bit'a sunlight
That manage to slip through the curtains' thin slits, (hits)
(It's) illumination, adequate, to the point that I can refrain from hitting electric switches
(Which is) a good thing, 'cos it prevents my hydro bill from itching up to fever pitches
I'll figure dimly lit, my raps exhibit wit, which would even shine through in Egyptian crypts
Ill-equipped lyricists that stupidly step to this, surrender forfeit
Shit nit wit quit twit pit sing first versus the verses that this kid spits
Insist to persist, you'll cease to exist
So cease and desist, or meet with my fist
Specifically your lips, 'cos that’s the gist what they could list Ab for hits (what they could list Ab for hits)
[Hook]

Abs and Format, musical brothers kid
(Step in the studio, it's just another hit)

See I got hits, kid, so many hits
(How many hits ya got!?)
Lots
Exemplary metaphors, let me select a few
More hits than when you play blackjack with a deck of twos
More hits than Latin percussionists administer to wood blocks
More hits than Jimi dropped at Woodstock
I'm not kidding
I'm responsible for more hits than workaholic mafia hitmen
I need to make hits in the worst way
Hitting harder than a family of starving steroid injected Mexican quintuplets, armed with crowbars smacking the shit out of a candy-filled pinata
On their birthday
Only hits when I write
More hits than Germans surfing fetish websites
Yo, that is a lot of hits
More hits than Barry Bonds playing slow pitch, in a disabled seniors league
More hits than doled out by the enforcer on a typical hockey team
Instinctively you wince, from this flurry of hits
But if you're still unconvinced, a last example but then I'll be finishing
Deliv-iv-ering more hits than Roy Jones Junior in a ten round bare-fisted cage match versus
A sleep deprived, blindfolded Richard Simmons
[Hook]

Abs and Format, we hit you like your mother did
(Step in the studio, it's just another hit)

[Cut In Voice]
Oh, that's all, c'mon, that's all, that's all, that's a-a-all
That's all, that's all I need
To make a hit record
Look at that money thrown in
Riding down the street
In my long Cadillac
Feelin' kinda good...