Feel me, I bet you've never seen a nigga that get raw like me

Gun in your face, put niggas on the floor like me

Who go to war like me? Flip a whore like me?

Put the squeeze on rap competitors like me

Get less and make more like me

Hunt a nigga down like the Predator like me

Keep the Macs in the drawer like me

How many niggas really raw to the motherfucking hardcore like me?

It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, I got lyrical styles forever

My endevor is to smash you punk motherfuckers

I do it to young niggas, old niggas, rock niggas, soul niggas

Scared niggas, bold niggas, since '89 I told niggas

I'm still ripping with this timeless shit

While you niggas spit that offbeat rhyming shit

My life is full of hard times and shit

So all I rhyme about is whooping niggas asses and crime and shit



	Who got the hardest MC style ever created?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)



I spit the murder one verse that's for the thugs that be thuggin'

Freddie Foxxx be busting nuff slugs at who be bugging

I get it everywhere that I go, thug loving

Cause it's fatter than Star Jones and Rosie Huggins

I've been lyrically inclined since I thought about a rhyme

Plus I knew the only thing I couldn't kill was time

So I started a long ten-year climb doing mine

While them fake niggas stay in a rush to stay behind

Bum bit, I spit the flames til the mic's set afire

I'm a fighter not a crier, don't care who you hire

Kill your street team, burn your flyers

Niggas need Jacoby & Meyers for being liers, now feel me

Calling major labels, tell 'em Bumpy Knuckles is in town

Tell 'em don't send no rappers out or I'm a bust 'em down

It's the king of the underground sound, get ready for the Industry Shakedown

Yo Pete, break it down



	Who got the hardest MC style ever created?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)



Yo get the fuck up out my face, B, I'm an MC

Not some fake-ass rapper kissing ass at the Gavin

Asking how can he be down, I make impact

Like the four-pound slug ripping through a nigga cap

I guarantee that, now here's a fact

Niggas ain't selling records, let alone a key of crack

You stare at me too long, B, your ice grill will melt down to water

And I check you like I check my daughter

Now turn it up, it's the pit amongst mutts, huh, I'm off the chain

Off the pen or off the brain, I bring it to you niggas

Like I'm fucking insane, huh, you heard it pop

Now you snitching like Colin Fergueson at Comstock

You ain't a thug, B, I'm rougher than rugby

The real niggas tolerate you, but the thugs love me

Bitches in every city want to hug me

A nigga would rather shoot his fucking self before he ever slug me



	Who got the hardest MC style ever created?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated?

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)

	And I blow a nigga chest out to keep me motivated

                (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!)