my abilities go beyond the science of conventional matter,/
my verbal thunder makes the heavens shatter, /
ya blood n brains splattered left adjacent to the pavement,/
got ya body parts scattered across my fuckin basement, /
with one swing I leave ya wonderin where ya whole face-went./
I shatter ya nose-bone, ya spit, but no original flows-shown. /
ya styles “choppy” I should be payin ya to mow my-lawn/
potency in my one breath equal that of a hit from five-bongs/
an MC? You couldn’t move crowds spittin the illest live-songs/
you’re prancing round the board reppin silk nylons/
spittin high pitched spits, like a fuckin lady, ya drank “slim”-fast, but still aint no “shady”,/
throwin punches, tryin to degrade-me, I wouldn’t cop your album if the fuckin label paid-me/
You may be Christmas, but I’m more “gifted” than December twenty-fifth/
Judgments passed swift, You aint “seein clearly” man, take some advice from Jimmy Cliff/
go back home ya housewife, pack ya kids school-lunches/
disses? you’re in a verbal gunfight, only a fool-punches/
shut ya lips, cut tha bull-shit, sit back, I’ll unload a “full clip”/
cause im tha “star” of my “gang” like guru and premier/
looks like you’re a rook and shouldn’t be-here, cause it’s strictly sucka free-here/
I know ya crews sayin, its Op that we-fear/