Word on block is that half the King Killer Beez
rap's under seige, Guyanese guns
I got European funds, my ice don't melt
Shaolin is felt, mathematics is my rod
and my staff, I pray like this
I break mics in half, shit realism
Fuck Moet and baguettes, that get paid off
or get laid off, I spray New York
I'm an angel, at war with the rappers
Good black women sleep over at Cappa's
I fall into it, Mr. September
Rock my long FUBU shirt in the winter
I respect my kind, plus pack a nine
Daytime outfit superb outlet
Staten Isle in effect, y'all in the manor
If you can feel Don down it Atlanta
I'm a poet, my work is never done
Law of Park Hill, my mic is stage one
Fifty-five tribes, in Psalms 30
Caution, sometimes my thoughts get dirty
Somethin precise, hold back the pressure
My unit too nice, you only got one life
to live, think twice
(Think twice think twice twice twice twice)