| 1000 omeros, gringos
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| 5 scar crew come from Jamaica
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| For work pay me for the beat with my verse over the combined work and no matter
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| who rhyme, I rhyme first
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| The MC who can rhyme like me, bring him to me
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| And tell him what ever he does, don’t sing for me
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| Backtrack create better raps or face the executioners axe
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| Who execute you 'cause your music is wack
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| Now I could say the ruler is back
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| But that’s Slick Rick’s rap, so I’ma pay homage like that
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| Get busy over beats that break the boom bap
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| Come correct black, I just harpooned the track
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| The reverb of the sound will hunt you down
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| The lyrics get you so high you can’t come down
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| He didn’t get far his ash tray is still warm
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| The bar’s he was writing cut off in mid thought
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| He said his world was so small he talked to the walls when he’s bored,
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| when they start to talk back he was gone
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| Beyond where he began to be the rhyme
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| And the rhymes began to cross through the arteries of time
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| This is nonsense, no this is lyrical content
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| The zombies spit a billion bars after the sound check
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| Don’t show me nothing I don’t wanna see
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| Don’t ask me to spit something if I don’t wanna speak
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| He tried to take so he took it to his wake
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| No matter who you try to blame it’s too late
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| How it feel to be on the other side of this rhyme
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| Where everything or anything is mine
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| For a moment I was the illest MC
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| Now that moment is of no interest to me
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| I only care about Infinity…
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| Lyrically I care about Infinity and my dreams
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| Seeing it for real show me what Infinity means
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| I had to force myself, then I endorsed myself
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| To get away from the source of the discourse I felt
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| I mean, how long you gonna run around saying a nigga can’t spit
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| How many Canibus clones up in this bitch?
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| How many mixes was made from that Poet Laureate Infinity shit
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| I wouldn’t be surprised if he quit putting albums out but his clones continue
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| to spit, microphones continue to get Ripped
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| You can’t say nothing about him lyrically
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| He only care about Infinity |