| Like acid rain showers, nations, you can’t face them | 
| Erase them or I praise them, as my mind excites the wind | 
| Like spirits of ill concensions, time will clash | 
| On ya cipher, lyric concealed behind whirlwind fire | 
| Or flood, draw blood from wack souls as I smack hoes | 
| Live concensive, or yes 'em, it’s damage | 
| That my sintex causes, is irrepreble | 
| Cuz vanity of my insanity force ya whole click to be divided | 
| You have just bear witnessed to dub side united | 
| Who do you love? | 
| Bugs, styles and fresh | 
| And numb somes of soul, witchcraft | 
| The clutch is the archer’s mode, and sure plot | 
| Of device, we shot twice, after the same arrow | 
| Rush through life, it’s off this slug | 
| Advise me with words from death, and new com battles | 
| Far time left, and pure shot plug that way | 
| You marathron, let me down to grace the plate | 
| Full stagnant, touch I, but revamp the squad | 
| Gettin' loops, saviate on contact | 
| The triflyn four fists, sparks another spliff | 
| Bodies left stiff, you can’t fuck with my ruggedness | 
| My gunshots is leaving niggas on they asses | 
| Smoking all the canibus, like the weed savage | 
| Rip dimensions and it matters, take an L | 
| You no challenge, I blow up, ya muthafuckin' brain cells | 
| And leave you legal, the slang tongue spigel | 
| Cocks back the fifth, teflon starts to seek it | 
| Criminals on a move, set a threat | 
| Sip the moet, and let off the twin techs to ya | 
| Muthafuckin' chest | 
| I speak double-double, cause double trouble never do I rumble | 
| On a rule, my microphone sever clones | 
| It’s beyond binocalurs, sence the moody, six chromosomes | 
| I’m no more less, no need to flex the evil, trip with the clip | 
| I got the 6−1-0 flow, and 0 and 2 is my zip | 
| Yo, so call me out in Philly when you down to flip | 
| No frill skills, or freestylin' when y’all wildin' | 
| I broke cats all the way live, on Velly’s Long Island | 
| I visualize cream, tech’s scrap with infered beams | 
| Stash keys, and tease, lickin' back so y’all can | 
| My click of criminals, flippin' confortable | 
| My pockets full of benjamins, fool surrending | 
| When I’m blendin' in, dub side invincible | 
| Imperial, for lyrical tactics | 
| I react with signs to get ya ass kicked | 
| Indeed the face of evil, is the face told by me | 
| So I proceed to bleed my people, niggas say I’m too cerebral | 
| Lies, dub side, flippin' perfection through your section | 
| Sanity’s slippin', whose the next victim to catch a bless | 
| Set a threat, I rip the mic and run race like an auto practice | 
| I inflect this verse leavin' heads in they casket | 
| Watch this nappy headed villain, brutal torture is illegal | 
| I back down clowns with a four pound, as I defeat you | 
| Insert the lyrical slugs, that straight’s very | 
| A nickel plated verse I spit like a hollow tip steady | 
| Constantly, drop ya wack back with fire weapon | 
| This adolescent, keeps a clip full for street protection | 
| Ain’t nothing complex about the way I cock my biscuit | 
| I set and threat it, bust that tech son, it’s not explicit | 
| Exquisite, in divine rhymes I drop like jewels | 
| The mic I abuse when I choose to break fool | 
| With this course, I force many emcees out the galaxy | 
| Challenge me, I rip apart flows with analogy | 
| Now with me, got that establish and wrap ya cabbage with styles | 
| You can’t manage to damage or even fathom the mental capacity | 
| Cuz I harass these wack emcee’s, in degrees | 
| I splatter universe, and mountain casaulties | 
| In the dark, my squad sells, blowin' ya conscience | 
| My assumptions, ethotical, unstoppable, anthological | 
| I pull the trigger with mystical, my poetic | 
| Rip fanatics up, and rich with the sinical | 
| Coming back from the city of Atlantic, it’s the hispanic | 
| Causing mad panic, with fat static for ya addict | 
| Automatic, I stick shift quick if you test me | 
| Left the ciphers, layin' lifers, seen in one spot and attended | 
| That you get ya crews bruised in black and blues | 
| Put ya name and age on the front page, of the newspaper | 
| I drape my hood up on my carriage, damage faggots | 
| Quit the habits, feedin' on emcee’s on maggots | 
| Inspect ya gadgets, my style switches cause I flick it | 
| Return the mic, fixin' stitches, cause I ripped it | 
| I can’t stand like a maniac depressin' | 
| That’s been submerged in subterrarian eutopia | 
| Why’s the mansion that I’m representin' | 
| Is the feel competitin' in suburbs | 
| Which has regenerated the etaric | 
| That kicks the subterric poetry on this plain of obscurity | 
| One element, top lyricist | 
| Intellectin' with, d-u-b squad of imperialist | 
| With an innevator as the dictator | 
| So we can see you, liver clues with side and system views | 
| Heads emulate but can’t duplicate, cause this side | 
| Can’t be tugged, yo, one love |