Ah, there ya go,
everybody know,
it's a start of the show
where the whole world see's you aint got no flow,
or rhyme, or the time, apparently,
to get within swingin of somebody good as me,
I'm so full of the rage and the flava,
you better sit your ass down, sign this fucking waiver,
cause when I throw down on a bitch like you,
aint but one thing to do,
just let your head explode, while I strike gold,
you been rode, your shit is old, it's all been told, wrapped and sold
for bargain bin motherfuckers just like you, no clue, no class, with they pants down around they ass,
rollin in mama's van, trying to hit up money for gas, to the mall, that's the scene, and that's all,
no taste for the style,
just stackin up shit cause they know how to rip the file,
are you still here? Can you smell the fear?
Cause you know you're up next and my crew is wreckin', that feeling you feelin' is 32 feet per second,
punk, landin' on your ass, I think you better pass, cause this aint ya mama's house,
bitch, and you wont last,
your knees are shakin' while my bass is quakin',
and you know my rhymes aint fakin',
so start steppin back to the cheap seats, bitch, while I fuck this mic up,
no two rhymes alike, s'up?
You trying to keep up with me? Be all you can be? Well fuck that shit, I'm a one man army of righteous rage and rhyme, and you aint got the skills or the time
to get to where I've already been, let alone where I'm goin, while the rhyme is flowin'
this it it, this aint the B-show, so you ready to go? Or are you just ready to punk out now,
that I showed you how, and you know you can't compete? Just step, bitch, it's that way to the street.
Word
---
I wanted my half in the middle and I wound up on the edge.
