Put me on a tape-track, Ill spit straight crack/
and pile bricks up, till im makin like eight-stacks/
so how do you take-that? you know that your fake-jack/
fuck leanin and rockin, the pump will make you fall straight-back/
comparin, you to me, is like a dime-to-a-brick/
they say im stinky as fuck because i rhymin-the-shit/
im like, 40 cal, a rap artist, who spit-fire/
So fall back, like steppin up on some trip-wires/
man...and for the cake you know im rippin-the-beats/
i only fuck dime pieces when im hittin-the-sheets/
so theyre askin if i flip out, i flip-off-police/
flippin bricks, even nicks, im hittin chicks-with-the-meat/
i... rap-tight, lyrical black-light/
cuz im different than other mother fuckers and thats-right/
me? im, crazy-as-fuck, guns, eighty-will-buck/
you couldnt beat me in a battle with the lady-of-luck/