Aiyo, it's the Concentration Camp

The Arsenal, the return

Merciless

You emcees got alot to worry about

Y'all salute



Yo, it's the raw ferocious

The body hard-metal soloist

A poisionous comb with a strike to the throat to kill opponents

It's still hopeless, I'm still arming verbal explosives

I'm still the coldest, I'm still the sickest, the diagnosis

I promised y'all before Moses

The promise I gave emcees 

still ain't no different from what a bible oath is

A promise with a right hand, y'all fools can testify

Define the illest emcee, the machine can detect a lies

I specialize in street rhymes and telling war tales

The forecast when I brainstorm raps is all hell

I dare somebody to brag, I'll leave them hostage gagged

The modest'll stab fast as a hand through a speed bag

'Cause I'm a battle cat, like in Iraq with a battle rap

Comin' out of a red flat with a gat and anthrax

I'm like 212 degrees celsius hotter

Beef or more live, the shiverless is getting slottered

Give me 5 mics



[Chorus: scratching]

recognize...the illest...emcee...no doubt...coming through with the roughness

recognize...the illest...emcee...better beleive that



They say me and mics are like Jesus Christ and a bible scrolls

And me and mics is like Faith and Joe when they hatin' foes

My name exposed in 96 in a demo battles

After the Rap Essentials, the critics became the battle

I wrote the first of military verse in double barrels

The first to spit Kadafi, and the first to use the nazis

The first to talk about desciples and the Vietnamese

Or hang draft in trees and invade with M-16's

Sharper than guillotines to switch blades my spit plauges

Invades like Y2K's and sprays with verbal bullets

Including gernades, with no pins, my tounge pulled it

Bleed in fatigues, my flow's mud and sea weed

You eatin' me is like David in a fight with Golaith

Me eatin you is like the stones in the sling before he fired 'em

Still the nicest, take any mic alive and leave it lifeless

You soon read about me in the Unsigned Hype shit

Give me 5 mics



[Chorus]



It's through the birth of skills, reincarnated, born again

Cutting the imbellicale cord, the ill emcee's born with a pen

You fucked your article, rappers done wanna criticise

I'm different than Nas, the only thing be saying we both wise

But otherwise I'm raw, the lord of metaphores

Strong as a pitbull's jaws, can chill with 48 bars

The hardest soloist, never speaks with hard poses

It's animated with fake hugs in the showbiz

I'm being hated and underrated, but still I made it

Got sick of this shit till everything I spit's contaminated

You know the albums of emcees that barely spit themselves

Pay enough ill emcees just to make they shit sell

I spit napom, tick-ass raps evacuate

I'm a 4 second left time bomb, rap detonate

So fuck y'all if signing me's not negoitable

Just one of my metaphores deserve the hip-hop quotable

Give me five mics



[Chorus]