[Intro: Mr. Porter - talking]
Yeah. Turn them lights back down too. Uh, uh, uh. Shhh shhh shhhh shhhh shh

[Chorus: Mr. Porter (Bishop Lamont)]
Now who the fuck is this nigga interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that nigga home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that nigga home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)

[Verse 1: Bishop Lamont]
I'm afraid of rappers on my wall, when I was growin' up
I'm grown now but most of y'all motherfuckers suck
It's Bishop bitches, MC's get on your knees, give praise
Please, please the deity, the steez call it E.V.P.
Ghost In The Machine, he's who you will never see
Impossible to view the scraps to stack like that T.N.T.
I'm so Primo and I ain't go to D&D
Feelin' buck enough to lift up your S.U.V.
Fuck that club shit
I'm on that thug shit
Break bitches, shake bitches, fuck love shit
Finger fuck 'em and
Donkey punch 'em
What's to explain, my brain got a malfunction
Way down down, past down syndrome
Schizophrenia, poppin' pistols, put ten in ya
Injure ya, dismember ya, chop your body up, get rid of ya
Milk carton bitch, who the fuck gon' remember ya?

[Chorus: Mr. Porter (Bishop Lamont)]
Now who the fuck is this nigga interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that nigga home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that nigga home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)

[Verse 2: Bishop Lamont]
(Fuck that)
Give me blades, give me hand grenades
(Fuck that)
Give me two uzi's and a 12 gauge
(Fuck that)
Click click click clack, to push your cap
Tips flip you back, your shit is flat then it's a rap
Your jaw crack, brain is mayonnaise
Shit dribbles, shrivel, flambe like plantains
The shit I scribble belittle your hardest riddles
You faggots is all skills, cupcakes with soft middles
See I'm old school, you kids is all middle
Fiddle with a syllable criminal, rearrange your dental
I'll bust your shit, your grill will look just like a piano
I bust that tongue twist shit cause I miss Big Pun
I'll bust your motherfuckin' ass nigga just for fun
Boom shocka lock here comes the "Chief Rock"
On your block, cop a squat, couple glocks and a couple shots
Split up couples when it pops
All you niggas better watch
All that tough shit you talk, knowin' you'll run tell the cops

[Chorus: Mr. Porter (Bishop Lamont)]
Now who the fuck is this nigga interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that nigga home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that nigga home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)

[Verse 3:]
Name your favorite rapper
Fuck him homie!
If you ain't say me nigga, fuck you, blow me
It's only evident, apparent, I'm here to inherit the throne
To rule alone above these fake characters
None can compare with this, ain't no competitors
The rhetoric's repetitive, make me sleepy like a sedative
Voltron, black line, nigga I'm the head of this
Stop tryin', stop lyin', beatin' me is a negative
I bench 450
Both eyes shifty
My ice pick ain't picky
It give your neck a hickey
Sewin' some shit to sticky
That gun play is tricky
I keep that quicker picker upper a nigga, right here with me
Beowolf to Air Wolf, air strikes, stay off your roof
Hand to hand, break the shit with my palms like I'm aloof
Don't act aloof, I'm couth to who's the truth inside the booth
Get at me bastards if you faggots need more proof

[Chorus: Mr. Porter (Bishop Lamont)]
Now who the fuck is this nigga interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that nigga home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that nigga home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)