i flip a switch and i slip into flow dissin mode
you bastards know im the gift how i roll flippin dough
no soul or backbone no tracks go back home
i rap the slab cold mad raw like cows dome

i out sligh the slickist cuz im so pissed and vicious
dishin out the sickest kiss of death in repititions
your extinguished get to going nice to meet ya
i believe youve been stomped out blown like a speaker

with a fist full of mic tight gripped like a pistol
crystal clear when i sear with the pencil
reppin up town and my braggin slips
im the shit hands down when the swaggas lit

picture perfect i serve it like anna kornicova
its over the man plan to slam down dover
surpassin theses bastards with backyard beats
come strapped in the crease and the pen is my piece