Me against u is a "SHORT" match like Gary Coleman vs. Emmanuel Lewis
Cuz i could shoot like Rae Carruth or stab 2 mcees like Ray Lewis
Mcees look like Janet Reno wit leperacy
And make ya cells sickle more than Mobb Deep and TLC
My rhymes goes back to tha Neolithic Era
Got mcees who can't hear and searching for tha mic like Helen Keller
I get wild like a Source Awards Brawl
Your style smells like shit so "Where's tha lysol
U couldn't touch me if I was a touch-dial phone
I copy ya style and make sound better like i was ya clone
Even if u was from Bone, U still couldn't get Bizzy
Tha only than that seperats me from u is a gap like Madonna's teeth
I rap into a thermoneter blow tha mercury cuz i'm off tha Farahenheight
I choke and beat down kids like I was Bobby Knight
U couldn't flex a mic if u was on LL's arm
I trigger mcees like napalm in my palm
U couldn't Shyne if u was a Bad Boy
U couldn't bless tha mic if ya name was Pastor Troy
My lyrics are like Halle Berry's cars wit Firestones on them
I trap mcees in tha net and I load them
This nigga has no feet and trying to kick rhymes wit me
While he probably couldn't define tha intinals M.C.
Even in a jungle you still couldn't get wild
I take 3 b###hes out, like ya name was Destiny's Child
Even if I was ya balance I wouldn't support ya
Ya don't mix like Hitler wearing a yamaca
U couldn't go against my style like Tommy Hilfinger vs. Ecko
I Boss 20 mexican in 1 car like there name was Paco
U couldn't pick my style like Eryakha Badu's hair
Ask Marion Berry, I got more CRACKs than he was tha mayor
Even if ya name was fingaz u still couldn't feel me
Cuz I scratch mcees like a DJ wit herpes
Matta fact I skip mcees like a scratch cd
I do tag team jackings wit George Michael and Pee Wee
I pull emcees down like a horny chicks panties on first dates
Is thats why u b###hin that my lines raped
An emcee with no skills with a pen needing refills
With no ink or thought to think empty minds seek pills
To get high on the lines but never reading in between
You're staring at screens looking for ghosts in your dreams
U couldn't process my lyrics if i was a Pentium
I do excersing ass rippings like Richard Simmons
I exorcise these fake demons with their heavy breathing
But they still cant rhyme on point like they nailed crucified screaming
I beat mceees present to past-tense
Cuz they couldn't see tha light if they was Pharoahe Monch and Common Sense

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