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Argh, duck from the swing of the knife
Where the righteous mind state elevates to eternal life
Message to the black man, Federal Express
Plus I'm Bruce Lee, thoughts to the chest, may he rest
In a box made of pine 'cause he ate the swine
Time to design a new rhyme, count the massacres in every line
Damage to equipment, vocal onslaught
Two or three microphones testified in the court
That I broke 'em when I choked them and left them in the base
Same cases, all the ignorant individuals that I face
Over the years with my Black Book, dropping a radical quote

Rhymes equivalent to a Tyson punch with brass knuckles to your throat
When I state, “God made me great”, I slash and then I wait
To crush the type of men I hate, they choke then hyperventilate
We playing a game but ain't no rest from blocking your right using your left
By dissing the master you're choosing your death
I'm sort of like this 'cause I'm losing my breath, what?
I dated right back and give a brain scan
I'm a planet, you just a piece of a grain of sand
Who can compare with me when the overdose is done?
I saw one a million years back, but he's the closest one
No pork, no beef, let me make that clear
I don't smoke the weed or drink the beer
I was taught by a genius to the tenth power
I devour at ten million miles an hour

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