From:
Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book?
Look give it back you´re wicky wack
With your ticky tack calls didn´t touch you at all
I didn´t touch your hand man you know its all ball
You sold a few records but don´t get slick
´Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
You´ve been in the game, your career is long
But when you break it down you´ve only got 2 songs
MC´s are like clay pigeons and I´m shootn´ skeet
I just yell pull and MMM drops the beat
You people call yourselves MC´s but you´re garbage men
Takin´ out the trash when you pull out the pen
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!
I read about you up on page 6
They was trashin´ your ass it´s sad you´re getting dissed
Now talk about your face now don´t get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist
I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
It´s gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I´ve got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
´Cause I´ve got more rhymes than Carl Sagan´s got turtlenecks
Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You´re hearing me and you´re like "oh my god its Sasquatch!"
I´m walkin´ on water while you´re stepping in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets lit
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!
So put a quarter in your ass cause you played yourself
Sucker MC´s it´s me they´re resenting
In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
With the dipsy doodle the kit and caboodle
The truth is brutal your grandma´s kugel
Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don´t ask me to wine and dine ya
I´m from Brooklyn you´re from Regina
You´re like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You´re just yellin´ and wildin´ wondering who I am
With those lies you´re telling you look like Toucan Sam
But my style´s impregnable like the Hoover Dam
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!
Translate to:
Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book?
Look give it back you´re wicky wack
With your ticky tack calls didn´t touch you at all
I didn´t touch your hand man you know its all ball
You sold a few records but don´t get slick
´Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
You´ve been in the game, your career is long
But when you break it down you´ve only got 2 songs
MC´s are like clay pigeons and I´m shootn´ skeet
I just yell pull and MMM drops the beat
You people call yourselves MC´s but you´re garbage men
Takin´ out the trash when you pull out the pen
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!
I read about you up on page 6
They was trashin´ your ass it´s sad you´re getting dissed
Now talk about your face now don´t get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist
I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
It´s gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I´ve got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
´Cause I´ve got more rhymes than Carl Sagan´s got turtlenecks
Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You´re hearing me and you´re like "oh my god its Sasquatch!"
I´m walkin´ on water while you´re stepping in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets lit
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!
So put a quarter in your ass cause you played yourself
Sucker MC´s it´s me they´re resenting
In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
With the dipsy doodle the kit and caboodle
The truth is brutal your grandma´s kugel
Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don´t ask me to wine and dine ya
I´m from Brooklyn you´re from Regina
You´re like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You´re just yellin´ and wildin´ wondering who I am
With those lies you´re telling you look like Toucan Sam
But my style´s impregnable like the Hoover Dam
And if you don´t like then hey fuck you!