| And what, rappers wanna bring it to me |
| Oh, you the nicest M.C. (so so so so so) |
| And what, yeah we known to blow up the spot |
| Pyromaniax burning, blazing hot |
| Why would you wanna challenge a guy like me, if you not clever (come on) |
| Dirtier than prostitutes sweating in hot weather |
| Load the spot better, than you ever will in your life |
| Wanna kill and get trife, go ahead i’m just gone chill with your wife |
| The only one that’ll get you in a cyph and flex style |
| So the next child that try to front then, I’ma pull your x-files |
| That been, hidden for years, and released when i came |
| Mics burn when i flame, forever remain with my name |
| Deliver high pain like migraine headaches and all |
| You got the nerve to stand before me, pretend you were bald |
| Must be pathetic to brawl, with a M.C. lord, holding a sword |
| I’ma a human microphone and my lyrics the vocal cord |
| You’s a fisher price king only eligible to battle |
| Saddle ??? |
| Who are you to hassle, the epidemy of master tackle |
| Buck forty nine plus tax to the max, corrision shample |
| Atista Gamble, don’t tangle with hard to handle |
| Beats lyrical warfare up the river paddle your tackle |
| Gotta a neon shadow, but still confusing like a pharoah |
| ???split through travels i unravel |
| Now has led you would have it, my microphone grab habit |
| Excels over the plab attics, have 'em like (dag nam it) |
| They pissed off, like missing the toilet |
| They plans are foiled, like there wrapped in tin paper |
| Burned like skin scrapper, the top kid i’ll take ya |
| I’m type nice, so think twice, before you hold the device |
| Lyrics shot are precise, had you blind like three mice |
| Me shise, must of had me mistaken for the wrong stick |
| That kids cut short, I’m the one with the long cord and the track one |
| i smack one rhyme at a time like kids acting up |
| Wild like the fight in a club, heads is backing up |
| In the meantime, disinfect your filth club, filled with clean rhyme |
| Gleam like sheam shine, take you ass home to better dream mine |
| Be out of town from sundown, this block ain’t big enough for the both of us |
| No chance of redemption like broken trust |
| Who tops the bottle cap and seal the whole three liter bottle |
| Rap and let it go flat |
| Off duty officers in brooklyn better go strap… |
| Don’t knock me cuz you can’t rock me |
| Lyrically i’m cocky, you sloppy, refer to me as copy |
| Malaki, of your style, i make a mockery of, cuz you choppy |
| You should specialize in copies like kinkos |
| Don’t ass think yo, you beat me (hahahahaha) i don’t think so |
| Not even mulitiplied by cinco, you blink bro |
| Now catch your career going down the sink yo |
| My hits rock you dicks nots so run and get cops |
| I rip shops and flip hot fat like hitchcock |
| Outta space i roll with spock, lyrically kill herbs, |
| When i spill verbs, direct actors like speilberg, |
| Run with ill hearse (son whose the arsonists) hit me off yo |
| I slice nerds and melt icebergs in the north pole |
| You soft so, really awful, i rock the grand flow |
| You need magic like Orlando, or must be rambo, multiplied by commando |
| Tell your whole crew, i told you i wreck those too |
| Make you vocal, i’m express you local, call and sick, you saw my click |
| Your chances are steal it and straws and sticks |