| Watch me blow the top off of mics | 
| When I rock it don’t stop | 
| Like the burnin' sensation when I drop off this mic | 
| Can’t stop this for life | 
| The rappin' that is | 
| If I came wack, it’d hurt me more than it’d hurt y’all | 
| Like when parents slap their kids | 
| What’s about to happen is | 
| (Nah, what had happened was) | 
| I started making up these tapes, stackin' up my buzz | 
| Rackin' up these dubs, steady packin up the clubs | 
| Is there any other crew who does it quite like us? | 
| Do they make 'em rush the floor? | 
| Ya see that’s what counts | 
| Like a club DJ throwin' on More Bounce | 
| And y’all know how we do it over here in L. A | 
| Everybody and they mamma? | 
| And I say what I mean when I put it in a verse | 
| Rhymes like? | 
| your words would snatch a purse | 
| From a blind senior citizen | 
| You know the wack shit like Bob Denver known as Gilligan, I’m killin' 'em | 
| Facin' twenty-five to life if I touch a pen again | 
| So I thought I might quit, but then I thought again | 
| At least I’m dyin' for a cause instead of Benjamins, uhh | 
| Now I rock velour jumpsuits, no shirt on | 
| Tryin' to get my flirt on, throwin' hurt on the mic | 
| Like white on rice, Platinum on ice. | 
| dots on dice | 
| You may know some dope niggas and they may be polite but they not this nice | 
| I got twice what they do | 
| Imagine evertything they wrote and at the top a little two | 
| He gon' have to spit a few if I only spit one | 
| You mess with sixteen bars, I’m simply bar none, far from ordinary | 
| Even by my fuckin' milk from the Legendary | 
| Fairy dust M.C.s, time to get your wings clipped | 
| When you’re playin' Mr. Tough and you’re sweet as Pixie Stix | 
| Your fans, they suck it up, the truth must be exposed | 
| I jump on stage and fuck em up | 
| Jabroni’s never stand a chance against rap entertainment’s most electrifying man | 
| Mics short circuit soon as they touch my hands | 
| Sell my music on the streets to stay in touch with my fans | 
| Man, my crew can’t be beat! | 
| We got this thing locked like the door on a white lady’s automoblie | 
| When she sees me cross the street | 
| Flat out truth when I speak | 
| With no time for plateaus I keep striving for the peak until I go insane | 
| And it’s as plain as the clothes on an undercover cop | 
| That I got a fan base that’ll never stop growing, been around for a while | 
| And for y’all who not knowin… | 
| And for y’all who not knowin' I’m a |