I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
It's like I conjured demons, got bitches at my concerts screamin'
Like a naval recruiter they truly want the semen
Rip MCs at the seams leaved 'em stomped as cement
I bring these motherfuckers hell if they don't repent
Give 'em aneurysms when I start usin' big words
So I speak to 'em real simple to 'em like Big Bird
This has been brought to you by the letter "A"
Better pray you get away when I let Beretta's spray
Get erased, get replaced real quick in this rap biz
Like the long answers on a second grade math quiz
Stick to simplifying for you simple minded Simple Simons
This is simple science when I spit it's signifying
That my spit is fryin', I could spit shine the sun's surface
The verse is hot as fire-breathin' dragon's verses
I hate to burst your bubble but you faggots been bottle-fed
Noddin' your noggin to what I'm sayin' like bobble heads
So boggle your mind and crack a bottle of wine
Over your dome 'til your skull is at the bottom of your spine
So dope you gotta rewind a lot of the rhymes
If Jesus Christ read my notebook then God will go blind
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
When I speak it's a problem, I'm a beast and a goblin
Fuckin' a MILF that closely resembles Marie Osmond
And I've been layin' in the cut, mind-controllin' elephants
Stab your face with a tusk
Orchestrator of death, I am a black reverend
Monitor your stats, it's all you need is Monistat 7
Singin' "Eye Of The Tiger" but you wear eyeliner
Mile high club, flight attendant goin' down on a guy sky diver
In 209 malfunction, 500 rounds, I'm dumpin' a Gatling gun to your dome
We act like dynamite inside a pumpkin'
Sadistic appendages, my whole body's evil
Havin' fun with two guns hittin' like some double desert eagles
We cop cars that look like cop cars
And got helicopters to zero in on hella cop cars
And send a missile at ya official tissue
'Cause your track sound gayer than the "Mr. Wendell" instrumental
Detrimental to your squad, I'll distance members
And dismember body parts and gift wrap 'em for this December
Death is the plan, you will meet Ed McMahon
When I clear you out 'cause bombs that I publish be Clearing House
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
The Puerto Rican Superhero
Yo, I'm angry like my momma just beat me with a switch
Madder than Nick Cannon when Eminem be dissin' his bitch
Big Chino is known to be a wild kid
Y'all refuse to get tested, you know, that Pacquiao shit
Wherever there's drama I'm a fly and find the fucker
Beat him in the face till he's ugly like Usher's baby's mama
I pray for your death and I pray that I'm the 'cause of it
Idiot, killin' a blind man with his own walkin' stick
Mind quickest simpliest riddles, I wittle all arithmetic's
I memorize ridiculous, I can hypnotize a hypnotist
Spittin' less than 33 ounces, still considered a liter
My skills are far fetched like a Labrador Retriever
I mean I, keep a lot of balls only rivaled by the Gods of Mars
Watchin' Maya's ass shake on "Dancing With The Stars"
My foes plot against me, my verbal molestin'
Deserves to be put in chairs of electric like Roman Polansky
I put that I target artists on my resume
And place them in puddles of blood you can see 80 miles away
Your survival's decided by which side of the bed I wake up on
Worship the works of the wordsmith like it was a cross
My effect on women is hard to explain
I could piss on they head and convince them that it's rain
I'm vain, my six pack makin' bitches love me more
Get out of line and get punched like you Snookie on the "Jersey Shore"
My raw thoughts are awful, I'm so twisted
I could eat an iron nail and shit out a corkscrew
My writtens displayed inside of Egyptian pantheons
Chino is bananas, I spit potassium and calcium and, umm
You ain't feelin' my spillings? Only a minor loss
'Cause I am bad to the bone like a rotting corpse
My word a monologue keep rappers scared to go up in the booth
Like it's Magic Johnson's wife's vagina raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw
I'm ill, versatile with the skill no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles ain't raw