Yo, my words should never fail, shootin’ darts sharper than a carpenters nail.
Yo, my words should never fail, shootin’ darts sharper than a carpenters nail.
I’m cool like dat, I’m cool.
PRhyme, PRhyme, I’m in my permanent prime, I ain’t never falling off.
My hip-hop will rock and shock the nation like the Emancipation Proclamation. Weak MCs approach with slang that’s dead – you might as well run into the wall and bang your head.
I want leverage, ice cold beverage, money I can’t count, I blacked out standing on Mount Everest.
Dear New York, I hope you’re doing well. I know a lot’s happened and you’ve been through hell.
They rally round the family with a pocket full of shells.
I’m shrewd about decimals and my man’ll speak patois, and I can speak rap star.
When you attack, I fall back in the wind like the lotus – put the soul in the track like my name was Otis.
Bass in your face, not an eight track, gettin’ it good to the wood so the people give you some a dat.
Truth is here, the truth is here.
I know it’s up for me if you steal my sunshine.
This is the point from which I could never return, and if I back down now then forever I burn.
In the hood, it’s against all odds, you spit 16 bars.
Don’t ask me, because I don’t know why, but it’s like that, and that’s the way it is.
Spotlight hits the metal mic, majority stare – heard the Wu snare, while my iris cut down the glare.
When you cross my mind, you best look both ways ‘cause my personality’s bigger than yours.
Feelin’ my wrath, venturing through parts of the South so dirty you’ll want to be given a bath.
X gonna give it to you.
Watch your step, kid (yo, you best protect ya neck).
When they see me, they say, “Who dat ovah there?” Just a lil dude with a head full of hair.
Everybody wants to be a DJ, everybody wants to be an MC, but being speakers are the best.
Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Every hood that we go through, all the gangsters around know my whole crew.
Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy yam, shimmy yay, gimme the mic so I can take it away.
About to steal the game, I’m a whole new crook. Bakin’ up that fire, I’m a whole new cook.
UH-HUH HUH, HEH HEH YEAH… but no, this is actually, like, a really great album. Like seriously (UH HUH YEAH).
Don’t you know I’m loco?
It’s not a game – you play chess with life, end up in the flame.
The Humpty Dance is your chance to do the hump.
Now I’m a start collecting props, connecting plots. Networking like a conference, ‘cause the nonsense is yet to stop.
Hey bro, Day Glo, set the bet, pay dough before the cheddar get away, best to get Maaco.
Stay on top but remain from the underground – X to the Z and we all in the family.
The most duplicated, anticipated, validated urban legends in the books with the ones who made it.
Brothers front, they say the Tribe can’t flow, but we’ve been known to do the impossible like Broadway Joe.
Well, I’ll be darned, shiver me timbers yo, head for the hills! I picked a weeping willow, and a daffodil.
First got it when he was six, didn’t know any tricks. Matter fact first time he got on it, he slipped.
Yeah, I been struggling my whole life, yeah. I pour it up and get my soul right, yeah.
Want to measure my size? I rise above the norm, the urban icon ridin’ on the eye of the storm, fool.
It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine, Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine.
I challenge any opponent who want to smoke – we can pull ‘till our voice get lower than Tone Loc.
In she came with the same type game, the type of girl giving out the fake cell phone and name.
It’s supposed to be about fun and gettin’ the pain out, but it’s all about clout and popping them chains out.
Just when things seemed the same, and the whole scene is lame, I come and reign with the unexplained for the brains ‘til things change.
Ain’t nothing changed: everyone still want the Benz and the Range, everybody still want the gems and the chains.
To everyone out there, who’s a little different, I say damn a magazine, these is God’s fingerprints.
Can I rise? And get to the laugh, through the cries. While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes.
My posse come quick, because my posse got velocity.
The mic is cast to the floor and shapeshifted. Heavy as the hammer of Thor you can’t lift it.
Lord Finesse and DJ Mike Smooth dial up the number of the funky technician!