Testin one two three! Whoa I flow rhymes wicked
And bust some to keep me uplifted
It flows to my braincells like from smoke
I'm no joke I make an old man croak because I'm loc'
I'm wild psychosomatic I got gats
Stored in my attic for any crazy bastard
It's all in the mind when the E drops a rhyme
My freakin frame is like a pair of Calvin Klein's
I drop flows through Customs, and get sniffed out
Like I stole somethin when I'm bustin
I'm Don of mic with this shit
I rock on, to the breaker one-nine ya dig??
Erick Sermon got funk for days, for those who want to
Backstab me in the back, like the O'Jays!
Can't get these nuts on the real
It's gonna be a cold day in Hell before the E drops the steel!
ARRRRRRRRGH! I still rock with My Adidas
With Run-D.M.C. and Jay, my niggaz packin heaters
So get off, get off, and if you want the real scoop
On the E Double, check the sounds!
I rise my eyes burnt like cherry
Get wise to my style more fly than Halle Berry
I don't know so I'm sayin bye-bye
until next try!!

Def Squad, is in the house, yo
Green Beret, is in the house, yo
L.O.D., is in the house, yo
Keith Murray, is in the house, yo

And Jesus is a fuckin puppeteer! The devil cut my
Sights off, and I'm runnin wild in this atmosphere
For mad niggaz it's curtains
I'm losin my mind, in this biological universe
In my dreams, I'll be gettin away drivin a hearse
So when I get to hell, I'm stabbin up the devil first
And leavin the skull decapitate his ass, catchin wreck
Rip off his head, and shit down his fuckin neck (bitch!)
From the little voice in my conscious
I might just leave a crazy-ass unconscious
And why, is a crooked letter like my alibi
A psychic couldn't tell the science of my mind
This man gets the wealth and y'all can all eat shit and die
Cause I'ma gets mines, bitch!

West coast, is in the house, yo
East coast, is in the house, yo
N.Y.C., is in the house, yo
Lil' Jamal, is in the house, yo

Biddi-bla-ba-ba-ba, how ya like the Squad now?
I'ma come down to represent the juveniles
I kick styles that niggaz can't fuck with
Cause when I come down I cold wreck the whole shit
Now who the fuck want to see Jamal I fades em all
And any nigga that step up, he's sure to fall
Now I come down to be the illest, the realest
Any nigga that step up, I'm ready to peal his
Cap, sit back relax and dwell on the shit
Cause I be the illest little kid I'm ready to rip
Any motherfucker that want to step nigga
I'll let you know where the weapon is kept, how the fuck you figure
That you can fuck with me, I be the illest B.G.
Bustin from Philly, chillin up in Cali
Sally from the Valley fucked me and she burned me
So you know I got the illest and I earned my props be
Fo sho' I'm ready to rip any MC who step
And let them know where the weapon is kept
You punk bitch, and I hit a switch
Any motherfucker step I dump him in the ditch
Trick!

Writer : K. MURRAY, MORALES, E. SERMON, R. KIRKPATRICK, D. ROBINSON, J. PHILLIPS, D. WIMBLEY, T. SMITH, J. GLENN, S. LINSLEY
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BUTTER JINX MUSIC, INC.