my bars of war spit more than all of you can adore/
I never implore, explicet content that can only be described as hardcore/
my freestyles glow more than that of a noctilucent uranium ore/
your wack shit is less tight than that of a salacious whore/
my ostentatious style got you runnin' like a frightened prisoner of war/
i'm gonan be responsible for, for downfall in fame/
but lets face it to you, this rap shit is only a childs game/
i got more credability than Saints peter and paul, gonna have your assed mained/
no-one can have me taimed, cos i got more celebrity than professional baseball/
all you get is opprobrium, you life is gonna be lived like a boehemium/
but for me, my career is being revived, in all my years this is the only timed i've thrived/
but unlike me, you won;t survive the tough life of tryin' to get noticed/
you don't have the remotest idea of what compton records is all about/
cos beyond any doubt you don't have a clue what you talk about/
you spit i'll-wackiness-shit, day in and day out/