I don't know why, but I can't seem to get to yah/
Seems as if my verses are slipping right through yah/
Maybe yah net got too many holes- the truth slips through one ear, out the other it goes/
All barriers I puncture, I leave nigga's brains ruptured/
I'm so creative and shit, I rearrange molecular structures/
I'm dishin' out the hurt, and there's more where that came from/
But dis only the first course; you don't want the full meal, son/
I'm checkin' you out man, almost wishin' that you would/
Don't be concerned about defeat, it's for your own good/
You'll get knocked down, but you'll get up again, with the help of Asprin and a little Ritalin/
But if you ever step up to me, again, all flags will by flying half mast, man/

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