I’ll murder yo ass, nigga, if you ever try to front/
After we done, the ground’ll be sniffin’ your blood, as if were a blunt/
When you try to front, you kno how it gotta be/
You’ll have no chance of winning… jus like the lottery/
You don’t wanna fuck wit me… cuz I be the best/
After the smoke clears, there be 10 shells in yo fuckin’ chest/
You kno the rest, this ain’t a test, this ain’t a fuckin’ duopoly/
I’ll come steal yo hood, like I be playin’ a game of monopoly/
Now listen up… you say you got skills/
I’ll have more zero’s on your head than there are in telephone bills/
And I don’t take pills… to wash away my pain/
I suck it up and bear it up, while you take ‘em just in vain/
You’ve been feelin’ the pain, ever since I entered this game/
My rhymes be so hot, that they be engraved in yo brain/
And what’s the name, of this game… that you call rap?/
For me it be “all that”, while for you it be “full a’ crap”/
You ride wit an “A” on yo cap, sayin’, “I be from ATLanta, yo”/
Well, I’m from Bolton, not Boston… so ya betta get it right, Hoe/
You call yourself Yung Duke… aka the belt/
I’ll whip you wit you… and give you a fuckin’ welt/