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 shit, go and pop off try and drop your bombs, let me see what type of tip ya on, or dick 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 fuckin 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 bitch, soon to have a stroke, cuz your ass gonna choke because of little ol’ me, finally got the opportunity to battle a real MC.