Verse One: Black Thought
Lyrically versatile
My rap definition is wild
I wrote graffiti as a juvenile
Restin on deuce trey
And used to boost gray Kangol's
with 555 Soul's from the streets
of the Ill-a-delphiadaic insane
For monetary gain, niggaz is slain on the train
It's homicide
For wealth stealth missions for crack
In the alleyways, where niggaz get grazed in the back
From stray shots
Clips with hollow tips, for your spine or
Either remain calm, catch a rhyme, to your mind
Niggaz ya know my style
I run a--motherfuckin-rap--muk
When Malik get a U-Haul truck
I stand five, foot seven, in command of the party
and scam like Uncle Sam
I'm never caught up in the glass eye
of your action cam, cause I'm down low
Artistic exquisite rap pro, that get the dough
It's the Philly borough dread
thoroughbread for dolo
I bag solo, like a nigga that boost Polo
Steppin through the corridor, of metaphors
Lookin over my left
Shoulder the mic, still feel colder than before
With this jazz shit I hit your jaw
Dice Raw, get up on the mic, my young poor
I be the nigga blowin up the spot on tour
Surely real to the core, old school like eighty-four
I never die, and raps till my lungs collapse
Then relax until my knack for tracks
Bring it back, on time
When I rhyme my rep remain
Either go against the grain or your ass is found slain
I overcome, niggaz want styles then I throw you some
Show you some, get on the mic and take it over son
Dice Raw, the motherfuckin Wild Noid
Get on the mic and perpetratin is void
Verse Two: Dice Raw
Ya leave niggaz missin in action like their dads in the projects
My style like an old mac, travel round and catch wreck
I'm ill versatile, with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles they bore
Got to know the real meaning of the ill shit, kid
I do mad damage but never will catch a bid
With my knapsack, full of ill shit that I just bo
