i'll drop this transmission on ya sub-mission like'a nuetral bomb//
ta help ya emission, no hate, but u aint transistin thru a 2 way wit'ya mom//

ma punch intersected wit ya face like the conjunction to ya street//
not interested in bein made fake, MaYb P.Diddy wants you ta compete//

But from this notion you can consider ya-self obsolete//
One motion and u think u in Q.B.(queen's bridge) askin, "Why's his Mobb so Deep?"//

Ma guns got Weak Defense, They'll Leave ya chest wide open//
It runs wit protection at it's lease's end, so i leave you wit'ya Vest broken//

put holes in ya after my assistant chizzles the sketch//
no m.d. but to wat distance can my driver's License stretch?//

see i'm ir-responsible, witta scalple and drill//
Fry u wit fire hostile, inta scrapple for a meal//

un professional but special wit wood, led, metal and rubber, writin attacks wit my pencil- take cover//
un contestable wen after ya hood, the bed in ya bi-level and ya Lover, im-politle crudentials see- shanked his late mother//

So -now u know- and can also -see what i'm bout//
In -ya hed i flow, u left thought slow- and -ya eyes poked out//

this kids -cryin about his need fo da "rock"//
Twitchin and shit he addictid to "Miavia" -man he loves his cock//

Your thought process is alot like SCream, the "First" one//
it requires "2" more trys ta getta finished verse done//