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!




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