Yeah, f**k all these ni**az
You know what I`m talkin` about Wino, yeah
Two minutes and twenty-one seconds of funk and I ain`t no punk
That`s right, that`s right

A tisket a tasket that`s all you ask it
Snap your CD and drop the pieces in your casket
Like little Jack Horna`, I`m still bendin` corners
Buckin` shots on your block, I`m sippin` on Corona`s

Uh, your McDonald had a farm with a six-fo on suicide
Sittin` in the barn with no alarm
Straight up collected it, cool and calm
Crowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charm

Who`s the rawest? My s**t is flawless
Had to be passin` out bruises, lacerations and broken jawses
Emcees wanna floss you better understand who`s the boss
Before I do a Michael Jackson and cut your s**t off

Part of the penitentiary still, penetratin` your grill
I keep on keepin` it right, while you keep on keepin` it real
I`ll bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waist
Coolio`s on the case, get yo hoe out my face, fool

Lodi Dodi, I don`t know karate, but I know a razor
And none of y`all can`t fade me
I know you wanna try to play me and busta`s wanna playa hate me
I`m one of the dopiest ni**az out I guess that`s why they hate me

`Cause I slang hits like ni**az Slang Cavi
I remain like khakis, I guess that`s why they mad at me
On a record you might outgat me but you can`t outrap me
My s**t is fatta` and yo s**t need a little bit more better

Freestyle in unrestricted manner or method
Free funk text readily selected, so check it
Uh, dip diver, socializer, I`ve been rockin`
These motherf**kin` microphones since nineteen seventy-niner

And by the time that this little nappy head ni**a retire
I`ma be at the ripe old age of forty-eight or forty-niner
My s**t is wise, CPT MC for hire
My name ain`t Rick James but I`ll burn your ass with a fire

So, what`s your desire baby love?
Is it hands wrapped around mics or fingers wrapped around triggas?
Eitha` way it go I`m dumpin` and I`m dippin`
Still tennis shoe pimpin`, 40 Thevz in position

Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, now ni**a I`m a giant
And yo ass is like Jack, but yo magic beans is wack
Skills is what you lack I`m like a Benz, you ain`t even like Cadillac
You`re more like a Regal I`ma pit bull, and you`s a Beagle

I`m set to strangle hangin` emcee`s at all angles
As their legs start to dangle
Dance around everybody like Mr. Bo Jangles
Los Angeles, Compton, Long Beach, and Carson Hawthorne
Livin` with the Watts I`m sendin` out shout outs

I used to drink Old Gold now I just stroll
Straight to the exit section of my neighborhood liquor store
Huh, and you know what make me laugh, bitch?
Even your mama want my autograph