illest to touch the mic, even when I'm wrong, I'm fucking right
Bust-in-wives, touching knives, that'll cut inside...
can you Bust a Rhyme? or Mase a Puffy...maybe 50 (5-0) 'em?
There's a drug-inside, this case is ugly...I think it's lithium
I drop Nick Cannon's, eat MCs like Tim-Salmon
I tit-Janet, 4 tat...STDS vs. Ireland Famine
I stay panicked, the type to bite prey, frantic
and the one to play bandit, you gay's just can't stand it
camping out, while I'm handing out pamphlets to crowds
on pricks that you can't stand now, with their fucking hands-in their towels
jerking off to Jerky Boys, that's what they call it "Mercy" for
but they ignore me, while they Akon go "Up and Down" 30 more
I'll slaughter your illegitimate daughter, lyrically
cut off her head, and wrap it in the present you brought for her, fucking fearing me
you never heard of the ICP-esque, wicked fuck?
Listen bruh, your wrists spit blood, while all this time I'm dissin ya
I check letters, your in check-through checkers, put to the test, remember?
through Wreck's letters, I'm on the ball like a fucking rec. center