Yes the configuration of the S on my chest
Ripping the mic and take the best I guess
Everybody knows I'm the winner not a sinner
More punk rappers mon for dinner
Slow shit down the planet starts to Nova
Step on the low key yo Pokey (you're over)
The whole community doesn't have immunity
Step to the motherfuckin mic G me
Don't try to call your back up you shouldn't act up
You made a lot of dough off my style that you racked up
G so see these rhyming freebies -- ya lease
Played out on posters and on past CD's
Check history and hiss to me you sissy G
My success was a Hardy Boy Mystery
The bell rings things to sing and then I bring
My P.O. to lockout at Chung King
I'ma roll and roll no spliff
You call yourself a rapper, you can't wrap gifts
That you're gonna get fret cause your whippin
is gonna make you feel like you felt on Pitkin
Avenue some girls was steady stabbing you
Me and my boys across the street saying who
Is that -- the kid is wack -- who got his back
I mean I hope after I help you out buy my track
The second cut hits the got the tempo up
Yo Pokey how we gonna hit it -- what
Or the noose will be hung if you sung on the skit
Yo Pokey take it, Some-O-Next Shit
Ricochet rabbit -- pushing ping
If I wanna Luther Vandross it and sing I am the best
And after the battle nigga clean up the mess
Get ya broom and clean your wack ass tune
And let me give you some advice motherfucker yo boom
Wave em like this yo -- throw in the air
Get your vocal chords and nigga prepare
And if you like the tune and the shit sound clear
Please say something then oh yeah
Oh motherfucker, my style goes round and crazy like the Bruckner
Hard like Lerch,
