| Villain hold a mic like he’s mean and his tummy hurt | 
| In a clean pair, ripped jeans and a bummy shirt | 
| Wonderin' would you clap your hands if he was friendly? | 
| Dapper Dan dipped and pretend to be Fendi and gold sellin' | 
| No tellin', slap a fan hand down, tell 'em «no yellin'» | 
| DOOM, all capitals, no trick spellin' | 
| Got what it take to get it through your thick melon | 
| (Woopwoosh) Fresh witty city skits | 
| When he get wreck, pretty emcees catch titty fits | 
| Told them call the cops, just don’t hold your breath for the ball to drop | 
| Better yet, hold on to your halter top | 
| Kept reppin', steppin' in hotta | 
| Ignoring pigs like Bigs Top Shotta | 
| Survivor of a live crew, not out to jive you | 
| It stings when he laugh when he at the bank drive-thru | 
| Wylin', get me every red penny | 
| Sold a lonely only child an imaginary enemy | 
| When he sees the mask and the microphone gizmo | 
| He’s the broke host, this is like his own quiz show | 
| This go out to all my brothers doin' long bids and sisters | 
| Who got brothers bein' fathers to the wrong kids | 
| Stay strong and ride like the funky flute | 
| Won’t find the Villain in the street inside no monkey suit | 
| Or either at the bar in no gorilly bra | 
| Nor raceway park scoring on no silly car | 
| Ask the stranger he knows who you really are | 
| Behind the mask face stay dark, no boring willy star | 
| Gleaming, dreaming, screaming- he’ll be off the heezy soon | 
| Cunning live rats drive at your steaming greasy spoon | 
| In participating places tip your waitresses | 
| A sure fire way to wire, trip the matrices | 
| Skip ya laces, all black tennis miniature | 
| Ball stack, gall tall pack, Guinness minister | 
| Tussle the hustle, cut your dank with dirt | 
| Won’t be in the club in a muscle tank shirt | 
| You could find 'em in the pub with the grub stain | 
| Chuggin' on a small tub of pain to his bugged brain | 
| Sane, some say he plum crazy | 
| Amazed at how he still get paid but dumb lazy | 
| That’s for him to know and for you to guess | 
| Won’t be caught in a suit vest at no computer desk | 
| A suede front, maybe may stunt khaki dig | 
| Not in no braids or no lace-front yaki wig |