straight locin, comin through the door gunnin, bustin em out shuttin em down, comin to ya city block or town, round after round, gonna keep it pacin, not wastin a second every minute i get, is composed of pure flow off my brain type s**t, go and pop off try and drop your bombs, let me see what type of tip ya on, or d**k your on, suck balls and drive sticks, my rhymes legit, not a biter, blazin up this track like
a dope lighter, street fighter with some kung-fu grip, that never slips, poppin off, soon as you pop off, with a twelve gauge f**kin sawed off, you get the point? little tyke, wit ya little mike?, little rhymes, little mind, my lines are one of a kind, trademarked and copyrighted, bustin on up, im always delighted; you haven’t any hindsight, present, or foresight,
so how do you know its gonna be alright, you don’t, let me tell you it won’t, im a soothsayer player spillin out your past; balistick takin whatever you get up your tight virgin ass, presently your gettin that ass whipped, in the future, gonna be sick with HIV b*tch, soon to have a stroke, cuz your ass gonna choke because of little ol’ me, finally got the opportunity to battle a real MC.