Im whistle clean, style remeniscent of the greats but Im just as great...take a hundred songs & then evaluate Im cleanin up rap like a sanitation engineer fancy word for janitor, dont hide behind your manager hip hop scavengers, gnawin' at the cultures bones every song I craft is like a sculpture & Im mad grown ...they're on a sad throne, wearin' burger king crowns by the time I serve ya, you'll be like their competitors clown you are a mascot for rap slapshot tryin to find good hip hop, is like a risky crapshot ...but I am 3 - 7's. take you back like 7-7-7-ninety-three-eleven all my rhymes legit, what time is it ....you better find a kit & try to build yourself a style they're even faker than a politcians smile aint it crazy how I wont stop, dont stop girls lookin like Aliyaah wanna make the boat rock ..Im on a soap box, only 'cuz Im only comin clean prohibit this exhibit & Im still pimpin my time machine frozen in rhyme, said that in 2009 these rappers still cant catch up, at the end of the line they're aint no end to my rhyme, I laugh muh-nye-uh-ka-lee at the notion of writers block crowds I've killed, please dont even try to rock you have no business in this game, do not judge on my lack of fame judge me how I stack wack lames apocalypse now. helicopters in an orange sky blades are merciless you cornballs were truly born to die ..this is the end my friend, call me Jim Morrison rap battles turn grim, blood is on the floor again never come clean it's an eternal reminder when it comes to classic rap there is none finer T-D-H-P there will never be another you rap children better go hide under the covers, no doubt! *long instrumental outro*
