You looking in the mouth of madness, skilled out
since I had this I'm talking bout nothing but pure
D badness My acceleration is compatible to a bima
My pockets looking greener, from the funky cold
medina Don't tell me bout the things that you done
did cause I done did it Don't tell me bout the
skins that you done hit, cause I done hit it And
once I rock these, with a style that's cock deis
Good God, I get the crowd together like knock
knees Now, I don't act hard, I just mack hard
Baggin' video looking honeys with the big back
yard Yes lord, girls I'm gamin' leaving the
microphone flamin' Throwing up hip-hop signs cause
that's the set that I be claimin' Guerilla war
fares for those who love to pull your card Grimies
from Fort Green to Malcolm X Boulevard Now, if
that's what you're hoping then it's the wrong
things you're scopin' I may not rap bout slittin
no throats but trust me kid I'll get you open

Verse 2 Here comes a taste of the rawness, like
you never saw this Once I grip the cordless, my
victory is flawless Chaos and havoc, lyrically
psychopathic At times get pornographic, lord man I
gots to have it Then I commit to hit you with this
composite that's ultimate Too legit splendid come
get wit' it for your comfort But then sloppily,
rappers try to copy me Take pieces of my property,
and use it all unproperly And probably, been
focusing a while to copy my style But child what
I'll compile is too versatile I'm too superior,
it's sort of like comparing a Spanking new Desert
Eagle to a rusty little derringer But skip the
tool, let's try to deal here with the jewel That
I'm droppin on you, now let me take you all to
school You see, to graduate in hip-hop you must be
smart And no you don't have to know how to paint
to make your rhymes a form of art Poetry and
literature is what makes this English fanatic Now
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/uuPdig this, I drop science but still deal with
mathematics And since I don't be dealing with
what's considered a mystery I learned the dead
presidents to pass American History Got my degree
in rapology Hip-hop had to set me free, look mom,
a real emcee So you want yours now, well don't get
caught with your drawers down Cause word life,
this industry is half corrupt just like the Dogg
Pound

Verse 3 Rap godfather Oh goodness gracious, you
better make it spacious For the vivacious,
ostentatious, who feel courageous? I put it on
them using my tongue as a sword But at times get
broader than broad for those who insist to get
floored Whatever it takes to see your nerve gone,
and word born Black Caesar gonna get his swerve on
My name should be referred to in medical terms
Cause I get way up in the cut and I'm talking way
worse than germs You like to chase it playin catch
like Tom & Jerry But on the contrary, I'd rather
sip the Dom Peri Lay back in harmony, because it's
so bizarre to see That all the hard core rappers
are slowly turning R&B Well pardon me, you
contradict yo'self, I see you not perfect yo'self
You like that type music yo'self, stick yo'self
What happened to black men of pride ‘nuff men have
died Nowadays what's been applied, in hip-hop is
genocide That's when the rappers go get the
clappers Can't you see they trying to strap us
just to trap us, good god it's backwards One
nation under a groove, that's how we move It's
time to teach the youth get it together show and
prove Me no run with the gun or speak of none for
action When you get done scream I'm the one, it
looks like an illusion I deal with equality so
never call my brethren son Yes mon, me got mad
flava just like jerk chicken