Good, good, good, good.

Yeah.

Oh.

How many MCs want to fuck with me?

Not many give a son to me.

Might as well be living in my custody.

Cause you a bastard that's just looking up to me.

Hut one, hut two to the three, keep it movin' like I'm bustin' from a motherfuckin' Uzi.

Whichever one is in front of me, when I bust the seat, I'll be the first one to see.

I'm a-toppin', it's in a hip-hop innovator, quicker than Q-Figure, when he crossin', I fade it off, and I hate a man, cause I'm still in the scene.

I'm a lean, mean MC, grillin' machine, killin' with ease, I'm another freeze, I'm a nuts, I'm a smoke, y'all, quicker than the trees that I pop.

Leave my enemies in the dust.

Debris and rust gone with the breeze when I bust.

Rehearse it if you nervous.

Immerse in Q-Bert verses.

Anybody with deep fat surface Please don't come with weak ass curses You heard Cuse, let's stay perfect

Ask yourself, is it worth it?

Peace clues is through for certain Bring it to your door, room service Driving around, off of the top of the mind Skin made of steel like Optimus Prime I'll rush in like Rhinoceros I will not miss, get left with no pot to piss

Determined to claim my throne with no concern for vermin Lames and clones, all different playing that my brain is on Came to change the game, got the reins to do it, entertain with music You claim you ruthless, what you spray in the studio, don't stay in the booth, bitch

Paranormal experiment going wrong and it's most apparent we're tearing on the song.

Chilling on the island with my name in Gilligan.

If I'm Erskine Illigan, you'll be hanging from my cellophane.

Similar to venomous cobras killing your soul just in a minute it's over.

Rehearsing if you're nervous.

Immerse it, you work curses.

Anybody with deep fat surface, please don't come with weak ass curses.

You heard Q-Spot, stay perfect.

Ask yourself, is it worth it?

These boots is too for surfing.

Bring it to the door.

Room service.

Remarks be the next MC to blow.

Choose a beat, then proceed to flow.

it's kind of funny to me you're not coming with heat how you figured that you're keeping it closed your words don't hold weight like a painful plate i'm in the lab you can work on labor day invisible ink yeah we paved the way flip the birdie the label that'll make you say damn gotta stop sipping on the haterade the eight got pulled like magneto y'all working hard on the mic but your squad is the type to get ate like a bag of doritos i leave them alone not even believe in your bone i'm the reason mcs can't breathe when it's on playing on the radio when the g put the chrome in the weed in the ball i'll be deep in the zone

I'm planning it.

Plan to get served.

Plan to get served.

Get out there.

Boom!