when I bury the hatchet
 I hope you catch it
 I'll attach it
 to his focus when I broke his head in half
 feel the wrath on my behalf
 I drop math
 and english
 leaving you squeamish
 then I squish your wish
 you're all phucken dreamers
 no time for tiddlywinks if your tities is pinks
 then you are white and I'm not the right man (not for me)
 but you can blow pipe and my style is so tight
 I be carvin' mc's when I'm starvin'
 you little chunks of punks that I dunks in my coffee
 get off me I'm not your softie
 but you will call through your breath to him,
 def to them
 silly broads, I phuck them then I chuck them
 in the river
 without a liver,
 then I donate to science, 'cause I'm a giver
 the mysterious clearly busts brains with my brawn
 ask Sean
 Cassidy about how I trash mc's
 on the daily, Alex Haley had to write about it
 darlin but it's true
 get a clue
 I'm tellin you the truth you'll be toothless
 then the boots gets smoked like they on fire,
 I desire
 like Salt N Pepa I'll phuck a fat heifer,
 like I was Fritz the Cat
 and she admits to fat,
 so I'm movin' removin wackness from my stratosphere
 if I thought that that was near. . .
 [CHORUS:]
 "Still bet that you can harm me, but you don't alarm me..."
 You're just a test tub baby
 you can't fade me
 but hey, G your style is lazy
 boy you're crazy
 losin' it
 check out my fusion kit
 it's welding rhymes and propelling
 swelling,
 getting bigger
 getting niggas in headlocks
 instead lock your scanners on Bruce Banner
 I crush fools plus tunes used by the master
 will blast you into Tuesday
 when I bruise a mutha phucka
 whose mother sucks a cock
 and his brother phuck a jock
 and his sister
 got blisters
 on her lips which be spreading
 she be headin'
 showin' cleavage
 with my futuristic styles
 I leave kids in a trance
 hypnotisin'
 your eyes spin
 back in your head
 like you was dead
 but instead
 you was buggin'
 ugly bitches get the dills at the show
 cause I don't be runnin' after hoes
 that be stank
 I thank the lord for my thought
 connected to the microphone
 so check the cyclotone
 that I be arousin', housin' blousin' you punks
 the mac daddy makes you jump
 I pump info into nymphos who be bonin'
 clonin'
 Vanessa Del Rio
 and yes Del see no evil
 hear no evil
 it's normal
 I come formal
 to keep em warm till the morn.
 [CHORUS