Yo E -Merce,
these motherfuckers are looking at us sideways
Like we confiscating their bitches panties
I rain on the crowd
bringing lightning and hail
Crucified to the mic with
a spike and a nail
Why I'm shine so bright?
I gotta write it in braille
Kill em, seize till I'm quarter,
spend my life in a jail
Use the budget for my record,
that's the price of the bail
Cops hire a psychic
to spot a light in the trail
Of dead bodies I leave all
sliced and impaled
Like a rat trap,
capturing you mice by the tail
Got you nervous and biting your nails,
cause you're frightened to fail
Computer nerds,
ordering your mics through the mail
Thinking you're the fattest cats
with immaculate tracks
And abstract raps,
typing battle raps on Apple Macs
Step off,
before I blow your motherfucking head off
Grab Superman by the
chest and rip the S off
You saw, he couldn't stand
the pressure from the liftoff
A bitch with a mic,
always trying to get me pissed
So we're the illest in the game,
where they're killing these
lames
They're drilling their dames,
teaching them the feeling of pain
Battle your crew, take home your girl
Ain't no use tellin' us
we don't own the world
Yeah, I'm so sick with
this flow so infinite
It's a whole different approach
for those listenin'
I throw sentences at foes who so sensitive
Plus I know when to just
roll with the momentum
I spit a foul flow, voice hoarse like a dalgo
Turn rappers to alpo,
you and your palo
Rallyin' your troops,
call up your whole battalion
The situation could get hairier
than ten Italians
Tellin' my mercies back again,
and he's more heated
Mission aborted like fetus,
no one could foresee it
I'm even hot as a 104 fever,
bitch, please
I'm ill as the leader of North Korea
My middle finger is stiffer
than rigor mortis
Sick as a bronco fan
when they trade away Clinton borders
Crumbs can hate in my face,
they ain't say shit
That's basically gay as Clay
Aiken and K -Swiss
So the illest in the game,
with the killin' these lames
The drillin' they dames,
teachin' them the feelin' of pain
Battle your crew, take home your girl
Ain't no use tellin' us
we don't own the world
I'm so charged,
nothin' matters to me
I'ma get charged for battery
with a bag of batteries
I'm eons beyond, peons get peed on
Y 'all rock neon, Tybo to Celine Dion
You're just a bitch talkin' shit
on your mom's computer
I'll hit your chick in more positions
than Kama Sutra
No tellin' what a bird of
sparrow will do
For some demigods,
I'll flip the bird of peril
Got your bitch blowin'
dick till her knees hurt
An swerin' the door, rockin' apathy
in e -merced t -shirts
We whole baggin' bag him,
got him beggin' for the magnums
And braggin' to all their friends
how intense the orgasm
Made him spasm,
revert the stage of Cro -Magnon
Fuck a preppy bitch in the
back of a Volkswagen
It's all part of the plot,
fuck a heart in the drop
Till the car shocks pop
with the harder we rock
So whether illest in the game,
whether killin' these lames
Or drillin' they dames,
teachin' them the feelin' of pain
Battle your crew, take home your girl
Ain't no use tellin' us
we don't own the world
This has been a journey
Inside your girl's mouth
You better believe that
We're little sideways motherfuckers
Don't you understand who this is?
Apathy, emerse
Yeah, y 'all know how we do
Know what I'm H -I -State to CT
It's that raw material
Highly volatile
These artists are susceptible
to blow the fuck up