HOLLA AT ME IN PM ABOUT WHATCHU THINK

Yo man you couldnt see my skillz if u had binoculars
I'll make u just like da new G Unit sneakers and this summer I'll be rockin' ya
All da other crews and us, we playin lyrical basketball, their game blowz
When we murda ya whole crew, we turnin' blood stains oranger then mangos
If a poor ass farmer was desperate fo fertilizer, he wouldnt buy your shit
I'm da new age black Shakespeare yellin', "Listen to thy spit!"
When I come through your town, they call da National Guard
Slam you on da pavement, leave your whole body irrationally scarred
I hit you wit my nine, AK, or my knife...right in da face
Your rhymes is more hypocritical then da whole white race
Y'all are bitch niggaz, listenin' to Boyz II Men
I'm Santa's lil lyrical elf, and I got tons of toyz II send
U got a question...O Brother Where Art Thou?
I dunno where your bro is but I love to hear my pistol go blough
You probably from San Francisco, the fag capital of da world
You like a nougat, u fuckin' soft, you only battle for da fame and da girlz
My rhymez is an AK-47 lyrical gat, and they ready to bust
U talk bout gold and other ice in your mouth, but its startin' to rust
Aiyo, you remind me of Vanilla Ice or MC Hammer, wearin' fake Kangol
I'll make u like a nigga in Alabama, pulled behind a truck, gettin all mangled
Yo, all you bitch niggaz rhymes lack content, mine be god sent
I shoot up yo crib, remindin u of when NASA blasted of a new rocket
If u a pussy bitch wit no rhymes, I'ma nigga who will spot it
If da cops lookin fo me...just tell 'em I was rappin, I aint da nigga who shot it

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<marquee>"Real lyricists don't even respect you or take you serious. It's not that we don't like you, we hate you, PERIOD."</marquee>