| In '95 this rap style was impressive | 
| By 2005 most rappers lost the message | 
| 2014, rappers wearing dresses | 
| Shit is tough to look at like airplane wreckage | 
| Check it | 
| I’ma waste you the chemicals will lace you | 
| My rep keeps growing like Emma Stone’s face do | 
| You recently decent I’ve been a beast every season | 
| My pen and speech is the reason I’m pulling wenches with ease | 
| And I’ll take that Benz that you’re leasing | 
| I’ll put a dent in the crease and driver side leave you leaking | 
| A homicide call a deacon | 
| I’ll have you wheezing in deep | 
| Breathing the beat I’m just meat | 
| Cleaving, I’m coming to meet Steven | 
| King, I’m a demon ayo | 
| Keep me outta reach of your children’s ears | 
| This the surgeon general warning | 
| You rap moguls I’m the shit to hear | 
| Crystal clear, missiles tear through the fiscal year | 
| Bombs Over Baghdad, official pistol is you fear | 
| Fear not the ear’s hot, your atmosphere pop | 
| Every bar souvenir, nigga keep your ears locked | 
| Dog you must got me chop | 
| Everything about me rugged | 
| Low rugby ruckus, my middle name and I’m soul crushing | 
| (It's nothing) | 
| Wiping the dust off the paper mate | 
| I’ll leave a paper trail for my niggas like it’s The Great Escape | 
| Save the date the birthday of the Bathing Ape | 
| No holds barred, bar none, I’ma raise the stake | 
| I was raised by a pack of werewolves in the woods | 
| Grew up studying Mobb Deep, 'Give Up The Goods' | 
| Now I’m walking down the block, half human half monster | 
| Stronger, full moon’s rise I go bonkers | 
| I’m popular in Hell like The Lox in Yonkers | 
| Glocks and bombers, box full of rock launchers | 
| Optic lasers, 2Pac tapes and box cutters | 
| I ain’t playing with none of you cocksuckers | 
| Make whores stop in the store first to cop rubbers | 
| Got lawyers on retainer if one of these cops touch us | 
| I ain’t feeling what they did to Kelly Thomas | 
| Keep guns on us so they’ll never beat me unconscious | 
| Listen up motherfuckers I’m sick and tired of playing with y’all | 
| My gun told me I’m a sucker for aiming at ch’all | 
| I am from a different cloth, no relation to y’all | 
| And when it come to me and you there’s no patience involved | 
| The Lucifery conspiracy of Forward Pass | 
| Allah seeking while y’all are speaking the balderdash | 
| Cipher protocol, indecipherable ocean mask | 
| The Code of Aframet, I will worship the goat and laugh | 
| Follow what you have found, I will lead you to us | 
| Every single record sold is a beacon to us | 
| He a greaseball but he like a Rican to us | 
| It’s like a carnivore eating the vegan to us | 
| You can’t tame a villain that’s trained for the killing | 
| Insane in the brain off of the pain that he’s feeling | 
| I don’t tear it down I cave and break through the ceiling | 
| I don’t spare these clowns I continue to drill 'em | 
| I bury them alive then stop the pussy from squealing | 
| Your music’s all fool’s gold that’s not for appealing | 
| Listen | 
| I don’t rhyme without a reason | 
| Money makes me metamorphacize to a demon | 
| Bitches lined up screaming murder for the semen | 
| Two for every one so I had to bring the team in | 
| AOTP, niggas best to pledge allegiance | 
| So cats are universal with your head right to the cement | 
| Look behind door number one | 
| And it might be a rifle | 
| How dare you think you can read the psyche of a psycho | 
| I got a demon as a house pet | 
| An arsenal, a crook with alien technology (what?) that ain’t out yet | 
| My CD ain’t biodegradable | 
| So they gon' find it centuries ahead but won’t have nothing that can play it | 
| though | 
| Oh the irony, your flesh need ironing | 
| We buried you in a mountain cape but that was just a minor/miner thing | 
| They say you can hear the beach inside a seashell | 
| But all I hear is «murder» when I load the pump with these shells | 
| Competition might be good but they ain’t half as nice | 
| I set the bar so high it interfere with space satellites | 
| Your shit is trash homie, please don’t hype it | 
| Whatever we spit, these dweebs gon' bite it | 
| Your girl fucked all of us, please don’t wife it | 
| These rappers is selling lies but we don’t buy it | 
| I live off of three words: release and fire | 
| Y’all described in three words: weak and tired | 
| When I go to war, I don’t mean I beat this guy up | 
| I mean I went in his mouth removed his teeth with pliers | 
| I mean… he no longer sleeps at night | 
| Cause I pulled him out his car and made him eat the tires | 
| This is Hell on Earth, may you all sleep in fire | 
| You’ll be the dopest alive the day that Reef retires | 
| They know my rhyming scheme is a pattern of dying dreams | 
| I’m glad it’s over, a disease to a dying breed | 
| A pitbull lion who screams, who’s surrounded by bees | 
| A pack of wolves, your career will be over with ease | 
| «Nigga please» is a new motto I live by | 
| On records I’m still fly, y’all rappers will still die | 
| We all monstrous, Godzilla spitter honors | 
| Spit on the ground, pollute the soil man and kill the farmers | 
| Y’all all goners I’m still rocking that dope shit | 
| Y’all progress is hopeless, I’m a product of dopeness | 
| I learned from the best, can’t you smell the uniqueness? | 
| Animal instinct, I can smell your fucking weakness | 
| The enforcer, change your whole life course | 
| The mic cords be recharging my life force | 
| The nice boy from north, I get the point across | 
| You on the balls, I ain’t even on the forth bar | 
| I pack a powerful punch, I make a horse fall | 
| Your shorty wetting her drawers, I make a house call | 
| You get your mouth off, I’m not even here for y’all | 
| I’m here for reasons that have clearly been stated before | 
| The greatest to fall, equated to the falling gods | 
| The homie never been accused of ever falling off | 
| Supported by the most invincive rappers breathing air | 
| You gonna keep it fair, get your fucking people here |