Cant find the words to express,
I try and I try but I only seem to stress,
Stress? And all I wanna do is impress/
Press - my words, my rhimes, by beats...
Make it through the crowd and to the streets,
And through the streets to the city,
And oh, aint it a pity, that I cant be country...

*Ma'am What can we you for?*

- I want a corner whore...

Go to the man, the slickest, the sickest, with a skull of the thickest, the hardest bone, the rap-man of the Mid-West thrown...

Go see Village Pimp, he's got the style, he's got the flow... the meanest lyrics to make your head blow, like a 92-caliber in the pocket, all he needs is the right words and then he pop it, all he need is the trigger and then bullet just unlock IT, stream through air, its almost like the matrix, the way his words - they play tricks, hit an atery, and then you choak, choak...