I stay vibing on the microphone keeping it live a full time occupation fuck a 9 to 5 I step up on the stage and you find it hard to survive call me a veteran been to battle and I'm still alive lyrical dominance I'm at the top of my rank and when I grip the mic I rip it with unmatched strength I go to great lengths and overcome by any means never will I alter I'll never fall to my knees I'll stay doing me been doing so since '93 you rocking the mic is a recipe for catastrophe it really baffles me how you could contend with my style I got a flow smoother than a pack of black & milds y'all niggas are claiming to be raw you need to quit the game fucking fake rappers who lack style you all sound the same you should be ashamed lyrically I'm well arranged and being ill on the mic is the only thing I claim
so get it through your brain that the kid is off the chain I operate on higher frequencies I'm out of range I'm not Obama in this game but I'm still making change hip hop is dead and faggots like you are the ones to blame fuck the glamor and fame I just want studio sessions transcribing thoughts to paper of burdens and blessings my morbid aggression my style's refreshing me ever surrendering is just out of the question you niggas are claiming to be hard looking like retards y'all should be equipped with helmets elbow pads and knee guards for protection while I insist on ripping the mic with bliss hitting you with lines harder then a clenched fist my flows sharp and on contact it slits wrists The state in which I'm in I don't know what suspense is my syllable word play will leave you defenseless there's no force in the world that can go against this

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