I got a flow some say is similar to cancer
I got you bobbing your head like my private dancer
You can call me Iverson cause I got the answer
And when I lyrically cross you over, I'll be calling you prancer

I rhyme long, cause when I'm spitting, I'm in a zone
You E.T. wannabe take your weak tale home, you're de-throned You thought you reigned, but now your head's on the block
Now feel the sting as the guillotine goes chop, chop, chop


Now what???