Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a rapper that's wack

as a matter of fact, I smack a back of the style, jackets are now

mellow minced, defeatin the mental

And become Gentle as Ben, but then they stibble and dribble

and bend like a pencil

The only utensil I got, is brain power

And you know it's essential I rock, I rain showers

sleet snow and raise hella eyebrows with my styles

You're wondering how wild

When what where, made ladies so horny

they can't even be showin they butt bare

Look up there, beside the birds the planets the hawk

the rappers who talk the mo' shit

I'm makin em walk the plank they stank I'm takin they rank

they tossed tiddlewinks I'm playin em like that game

I'm gunnin and rackin and packin em up

and I'm runnin this here rap thang

Main, you wanna go to war, I'll take you

I physically break you, when I break through

I'm makin you fake crew, you made a mistake fool

I hate you MC's, I'll grate you like cheese

I may choose to squeeze, my pencil

And write out a couple of rhymes

Whooooaaaa, whooa my goodness!!!

Are we slaughterin, is this just slaughter MC night?

Or somethin man, what is this?

Is this all the aggression you ever had?

How many MC's must get ripped, before By says don't flip with the Gift

You know? That's what I'm talkin bout

How many MC's must get dismissed

Before somebody says, don't trip with the Gift

*laughter*

You know, it's all good

KP and SloganMasters in the house, the Cheezit Terrorist

And we chillin at 90.3 we got thirteen minutes left

And then we got Brenda Short, and her records