Honestly, it takes a hard m.c. to conquer me//
Ya punches miss, you got a better chance at hittin’ the lottery//
So never question the skill... i’m ill… the god m.c.//
The verbal lord divine spittin’ quality//
It bothers me that haters just don't recognize skill//
And they be testin’ my will, punishment is death, defy the ill//
Yet some brothers try still, but they don’t attest to my ruff lines//
So even though I go through tough times, ya'll still can't touch mines//
We got J.O.S.E.’s on every block, the way we crush lines//
Flippin’ modes, we known to bust rhymes, E and his boys known to get a lil’ crazy some times//
We laugh at ya'll high kids, ya'll do more than rewind hits, you define bitch//
Gratifying my wild scripts//
We call ya'll doggystyle cuz when it comes to our spits, your always behind this//
Simple procedures, I melt wax like I was lighting candles, flows too hot//
Leave you amptutated for tryin’ to get a handle, shout out to da R.O.C.//