Intro/Hook (x16):
It's lik dat y'all
Verse 1: Dray, Skoob
Yeah check it, uhh, yeah, check it
Well check it out, yo, it's the maniac, lyrical brainiac so back the freak up
If niggas got some beef then good grief boy they'd better speak up
Cos I'm rippin this, my style's ridiculous, look how I word it
These niggas couldn't tell us they were jealous but I heard it
When they came and tried to tease, please they must be jokin
They tried to diss the kid, they got they [fuckin] bodies broken
For that rap [shit] cos black I smack [shit] from here to Chile
I swallow up your crew then crack a brew and spark a Philly
Cos you're bluffin like you're rougher, enough of that crap
Just meet me on the stage and let's see who can really rap
Cos if you really wanna battle, well that'll be the spot
So now I pass the mic so that my nigga Books can rock
Three cheers, ayo where's the mic guy? Groovy!
If you step then watch that first one cause that first one is a doozy
Then I'm up next to squeeze, I got nuff expertise
For the roughnecks and G's, I'm swingin somethin, bust the function
Kid, I'll amp up, recamp up, bust a Hit Squad stamp up
Do your [fuckin] vest son, just to make a mess, umm
2-1 used to run it wild with the young 'n
The restless, and just beneath the plum is where I'm from and
Hey sweet lookin, you need to peep what I got cookin
Since I'm livin rough I gots ta give it up to Brooklyn
Crews can kiss it up to God, it wouldn't work, I'm just a jerk
Until it's time for me to split, chill, gotta murk ...
Hook (x16)
Verse 2: Dray, Skoob
Yeah yeah
Well comin back it's like, um, eenie meenie, none of y'all can see me
Cos yo I disappear and reappear like I'm a genie
It's the lunatic so bust the tourniquet, it's just a warning
Cos I could go from AM to PM, like Dawn and
I'm wicked, kick it sicker than your brain like it's a tumor
I roll with PMD, so [motherfuckers] kill the rumor
Y'all can never stop my flow cos yo there ain't nobody looser
I turn more kids to stone than that chick they call Medusa
When I wreck [shit] I'm on some next [shit] because I'm quicker, son
I run thru rappers like my name was Eric Dickerson
Now ain't that a bitch, I switched up my pitch
So you can stay real, kid, but I'mma stay rich
Aight, I kicks my style from Brooklyn and some MCs wanna test this
So I'm sendin em to the showers by the powers that are invested in
The nutcracker, black, I wear these gloves to smack a phony
Ass backwards, like Kraft cheese and macaroni
Good grief, some tried to rock it, G, they need to knock it it-off
They must be eatin Gerber's cos that [shit] they dropped was sit-oft
For worse or better, kid, I never let another serve me
I'll get flyer than that 23 on Mr. Jordan's jersey
Crews be talkin rough but they can cough it up just like they spit up
The night that they was [fucked up] lookin for some skins to hit up
Now I wait for Solid Scheme to bring the beat back
Cos just like the flick with Mick, my style is free, jack, believe that
Hook to fade
