How could I keep my composure
When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?
Release then veins in the brains increase
When I let off make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece
Unloadin unfold and the rhymes are explodin
And the mic that I'm holdin's golden
Cordless cause the wire caught fire like a fuse
Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction
The outcome is there so listen
Here's the brief description
A boom then flame then smoke, ashes a dust to dust
Contact is compact when I bust
MC's are now in a massacre
A disaster a... master at fashion a beat to death
To a pulp, till it can't pump
Speakers aint sayin nothin
Now the ball can thump
As I'm lookin' I stand like great buildings in Brooklyn
Then the stage is took then
Havoc struck that could product a whole court
Keep in touch with the mic when you're holdin y'all
Sumpin and pumpin and slobbin and droolin
Nothin's pumpin, who do you think ya foolin?
Tommy Tucker, the neighborhood sucker
What you oughtta do.... is pick up a tempo
From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent so
You start to kidnap
I watch the kid rap
When he get off he know he shouldn't a did that
Minor, old-timer, weak-rhymer, stay-in-liner
You won't be inclined to go so yo
Maybe later, you're gonna be
But for now, you're almost one of me
Now the immature imitations taken from originations
Made by tracin and a little arrangin
So perform, If ya still aint warm maybe after
A roast by the host with the most it's a musical massacre
Never tired, don't even try it, keep quiet
Like a storm, you could rain...but a riot
Remains, the gangs
