| Yeah, know what I’m sayin |
| Think you got it figured out by now |
| Yo, yo |
| If first you don’t succeed try, try again |
| Step up to the mic and die again |
| This is the next lifetime and you wanna battle |
| Either you like reincarnation or the smell of carnations |
| The sample’s the flesh and the beat’s the skeleton |
| You got beef but there’s worms in your Wellington |
| I’ll put a hole in your skull and extract your skeleton |
| Oh my God, said a word twice, Vast Aire, I’m twice as nice |
| You get caught up, in my blade, might get diced |
| The flesh is dangerous here |
| Yo, hahaha, yo, it’s Can O, yo |
| If first you don’t succeed try, try again |
| Step up to the mic and die again |
| This is the next lifetime and you wanna battle |
| Either you like reincarnation or the smell of carnations |
| The sample’s the flesh and the beat’s the skeleton |
| You got beef but there’s worms in your Wellington |
| I’ll put a hole in your skull and extract your gelatin |
| Mustard seed faith move mountains |
| This is jailhouse rap, rock hard |
| Like faces in a cell block |
| You’ll catch a Kennedy curse from the speedknot |
| Son, I mack cause I think different |
| Plus your girl’s sex technology, I wanna plug in |
| Now every golden egg my goose lay stay golden |
| With your poker face, I punch you in the stomach and you folded |
| Folded, f-f-folded, folded, f-f-fo-fo- |
| Yo, see what happens |
| Fuck with the wrong people |
| You might get dragged into a kitchen, and cut up |
| This is for real right here, Def Jux right here |
| I’m serious, yo, Vordul Megilah |
| Yo, uh |
| Spit with lyrics, that spill off the grill nasty |
| Off the top, live five, fancy |
| Fly mic strapped with nozzles |
| Blowin Earth’s color through a nostril |
| Apostle that write novels with thoughts, mega hostile |
| Ready to pop you, venomous snakes out the Congo |
| With through these clear optics |
| Yo, with large, I’ll watch you |
| Rap in the coldest winters, strapped with |
| All sorts of snorkels attached to hoods that pull over Motorola goggles |
| We pigeons equipped, with talons to twist, split owls |
| Now watch me, skate off the scene with a mongoose |
| Pop a Willie and, I’ll leave you deuce bottles of |
| Frozen rhyme juice |
| Smoke bubble gum while munchin on Milanos |
| We crazy, off the head, lazy |
| Blaze emcees, amaze with degrees |
| On a higher level, in-spire devil to leave |
| God cypher alone, bomb pipes on bones |
| Architect when I write these poems, write these poems, write these poems |