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Lyrics
Only a few can spit with me
See, I take the next level to the Nth degree
I be the fell clutch: Cry aloud and wince for me
Style's foul, yo it's kind of got a stench to me
It's like tick tock, moving like the hands on your wristwatch
Battle with us? Pish-tosh!
Poppycock, nonsense, what've you been doing, crack smoking?
The sharks in the water got you back-stroking with your raps broken (Yeah)
So notify your next of kin
Mouth so big you'd swear it was a pelican
Find none better than this eloquent mic veteran
With flows composed to turn your skeleton to gelatin
So, who you know that can get the party started like (Do'!)
Got they mind right, keep their rhymes tight like (Do'!)
Dirty South kid, master of the ill type flow
Who you know that can blaze through a show like Do'
To the L-I-O, Man you cats can't flow how the hell I flow
No need to tote 9's I shine so bright I leave you folks blind
Qoute mine, dope rhymes hookin' you like coke lines
NAIMEAN?!
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