All right, you fools. You've brought it on yourselves! Everything would have come right if you'd only left me alone. I'll show you!
\n
\nAstray
\nYou wanna hear the goon snap off the boom-bap?
\nGon’ slap me in a room packed with rappers I’ll turn into a Doom track
\nI consume the wack, the looming rap monsters back from out of his black tomb unwrapped
\nHowling at the moon, in back of the black lagoon
\nThe human bat Dracula will soon attack
\nNow stop (Stop where you are!)
\nAnd let the track resume
\nSpit over 40 so perhaps I get some black balloons
\nEvery flow written is forbidden and close sittin’ in a speaker box right behind the secret locked door hidden
\nCold-ridden so you don’t get in, cause you know spitting thieves are foul leaving my style so bitten
\nNo bull-shittin
\nI got folders full, of multi-syllable flows that are quotable
\nBut (you wanna?) suck a dick as big as totem poles
\n'Til your whole neck gets so swole that your throat explodes
\nTook the old-ables advice and colors and since that I been twice, no thrice, the lover
\nYeah my dick game nice, cut so many hoes that my nickname slice
\nThe gentleman got your feminine legs tremblin’ cause she came twice
\nWomen entice, until my cheese turn them into mice. But that don’t end nice
\nWhen I won’t even leave ‘em a thin slice. I win fights beating up pussies, call me Kim Slice
\nBeen nice with 3’s, like Glen Rice, I just need a bitch who will invite individual friends twice
\nI like my trim nice and slim like some gym tights
\n(Them tights?) so women can spend as many as ten nights
\nI’m talking slim like skin-tight. Then, tight as best friends, gotta wrestle to get the rest in tight
\nSo the chicks with the big wounds can leave
\nCause if I wanted room to breathe, I’d put it in your windpipe
\nI’m a slim tight Mac, in a black suit with thin white pin stripes and a limp, living a pimps’ life, a gorilla pimp
\nYou tried and made a lil’ attempt, but still a simpler man a banana pealing chimp
\nMy diligent, criminal intent’s to break into banks through ceiling vents, stealing ever dollar bill and cent
\nMy feelings went out the window with a cloud of Indo, I doubt their about to rekindle, so now I’m millitent
\nPeep the style and the way your chick sweat it
\nThe number one question is ‘could that bitch get it’?
\nHer pussy was dry ’til the thought of my dick wet
\nAnd I was a humble guy, ’til she made me big headed
\nGet it? Nah? Fuck it, forget it
\nYou will let it sit up in your brain for a minute
\nBut for now peep the style and the way your chick sweat it
\nCause my answer to the question is that bitch can get it
\nYeah, she know she can, and you know she can
\nSo hold her closely fam, cause on the low she plan, to be the biggest damn ho she can
\nShe and my flow, she wide open like a China-man grocery stand
\nI’m flyer than a human cannon ball, hotter than an upstairs room in Panama with no central air
\nYou see my pencil flair? When I write, you try to bite, you’ll need dental care
\nNow I should get a standing ovation, handed donations, I tried dammit
\nGot a God granted vocation. My third album, SoundScan was amazing, without a single jam in a standing rotation
\nScanned a whole nation and a globe case and the planets whole race, in any random location
\nYou won’t find a man thats so amazing
\nI’m flammable, I’m blazing, raging, like an animal thats caged in
\nI made a transformation, now I’m iller than a cancer patient
\nCut the beat like an amputation, get the fans' ovation, I’m about to entrance the nation, like a new dance sensation
\n
\nI’ll show you who I am ! And WHAT I am! Hahaha\n\n
