Aint no question, about who’s the man in charge, I’m ripping this [bad word] apart. I hit ‘em hard. One of the illes by far! Superman lover came to rescue all mics, from them
Stoops thinking they knock boots, still excepting all those [bad word] fights. Giving you some inside, give me the mic and I’ll try to be more precise, don’t be surprised when [bad word] tonight, gotta prove you wrong, let me show you right, Wah! Now do you really wanna get a one two check, while the beats already pumping out ya tape deck? With a doom tú doeng sound, watch me get down. Glad to be back in town, I guess it’s time to look around now. Something’s smelly, I smell something fishy… Why are all these sissies still tying to diss me?
Some call it ignorance, some call it jealousy. The only thing I know is that your soul just wasn’t mend to be. Collecting all the props, thinking you’re hot. Your [bad word] is looking up like “look what kind of man has she got!” So [bad word] your [bad word] #33; Act like you want it, you can suck my d*ck, with bringing all that drama. Talking all that jazz, while you’re watching me how I do it. Make you [bad word] in your pans, like an unexpected bowel movement!

Блаббер: So gimme a minute I’m pickin it back up where ya left off let me get some
I’m pumpin it through ya [bad word] energize acceleration
Cause yall all tryin to kick
That lyrical energy flowin a melody no-one be getting the recepy [bad word] the mind rhyme versatility
blabberastic fanatic delivery funky flavas till infinity
Ya sloppy and slippin its slippery spit saliva all over the industry
(The mic and me) belong together like docter evil and mini-me
Means you servin me goes way beyond ya possibility (ya feelin em crackheads )
We kickin it cause we can can I skipididap didibidido but no I’m not the scat man
I make ya wack rappers go singin like Barbara Streisand
cause we on some [bad word] that will even make the pope say [bad word] #33;