Who shot ya? Separate the weak from the obsolete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
Its on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef
I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek
Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet
Thundering, shaking the concrete
Then the shit stop when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops, said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, three and a quarter
Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter
Old school/new school need to learn though
I burn, baby, burn like Disco Inferno
Burn slow like blunts with yayo
Peel more skins than Idaho Potato
Niggas know: the lyrical molesting is taking place
Fucking with Biggie Smalls, it aint safe
I make your skin chafe, rashes on them asses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land Cruisers
Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools
Niggas mad because I know that cash rules
Everything around me two Glock 9s
Any motherfucker whispering about mines
And Im Crooklyns finest
Representing for the queen, her royal highness
Catch this one bubonic plague
In your head, back, chest, arms, and legs
When Im coming through grab your cranium for alternatum
Son, I stay subterranium
My subliminals mix with criminal chemicals
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereal
Place your bet and your whole entourage will get wet
Thats a promise cause Idont make threats
Im a graceful poet with sadistic ballistics
Above and beyond all that other bullshit
Linguistics aggressive antiseptic
Nerve-wreckin, concepted on consistent contestants
My deviant deliverance
Leaves MCs in a state of mal mid depressin 
I launch flows like torpedos
At any god-given episode
I be destined to flip so much funk shit
And do niggas better than the government
Keith Murray wrecks this with various combinations
Im sick, manifestation
Oh my god, its the hardest, I make entourages
And crews see mirages, Mary J. Blige is
God, gotta have my crew lace me up now