Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Meet the mic controller
The Philly roller the wicked one
Sun rude bwoy come
Rhymes off top the head
Said what I said and did what I did
Never catch another bid
Create rubbers and slid
I'm out of there ghost evaporate vanish
Callate la voca if need be I'm Spanish
No habla ingles police ask questions
I don't know nuttin
Ain't nuttin happening stop stressing
I'm headed down the alleyway
With the Smith on my hip
Shank in my hand who's the man
You won test who me
I think you better back up and chill G
Don't make me mad boy don't even try
Eyah got skills eyah smoke mad thai
You steppin to a brother who been through it all
My freestyle is freestyle wild you nah won test my
Yes y'allyou nah won test my yes y'alles
You think you got flavor to match
You can get a smack for that black
Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Nobody can do it
You runnin out of gas Sun leakin much fluid
I'm hungry like Jack two inches away from a Big Mac
Then BUCK BUCK BUCK
Take that witcha on the way down
So you don't feel the ground
When you hit and your head splits
F**k all that bullshit
It's hectic respect it the dialect I come
Original the intellect refuses to tongue twist
So don't tell me naythan
Me have a champion style
Hardcore with a taste of Jamaican
You steppin to the wrong
One the Nine is the seed of Jesus
I get loose on ninety proof
Fatter than a bubble goose unpredictable
You never know what I'm going to say after I say
What I say when I say what I say when I play next
There it is who you won test
The deceased resented the fact
And told him off in no uncertain terms
He still kept coming he identified himself
And then drew his revolver
Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Who you won test me have a champion style
Cream of the crop nonstop hip-hop
Funky stuff rough enough to
Break up the handcuffs
Scuff a cream puff like an old pair of boots
When the Nine millimeter
Shoots the gift I was born with
Who's that with the booby trap poisoning rap
With the wack bullcrap we can't have that
Shut him down I'm underground
And if my sound hits the airwaves of pop
It'll still be hip-hop
No samples from Barry Manilow
Strictly Timbo you know
The whole 40 below
That's how I'm rollin in the Nines
Nine-Five Nine-Six Nine-Seven to get mines
Yeah I'm sending this out to all you bigmouth
Knucklehead suckers that was talkin all that garbage
I am the man who you won test punk
