*send corrections directly to typist*
 [La the Darkman]
 Yeah  Tone Touch  Power Cypha MC's
 *In Jamaican tone* Yeah  ya mon know alot of dat cum from killen
 I run da place  take it from me (real gun talk)
 The fortified nine millime
 Yo Darkman King  doin my thing the bee sting
 Assassinate your whole team wit the vocal red beam
 Sold yourself a dream  I sharpen my script as an arrow
 Professional and live, my style double-barrel
 I Self Lord, Master natural disaster
 Holy sling to splash ya, dark force to thrash ya
 Blind eyes, poligimous got four wives
 Inside my square, rappers get buried alive
 We never even, put you in the dirt still breathin
 Perfection, the gold mic touch dun, I'm blessin
 Flames lit the flesh, shot at some of the best
 When Dell played me at my rest, stabbed a kid in his chest
 Now I got respect, runnin through boroughs, hoods and towns
 Niggas pull they pants down when I show the four pound
 Verbally, fantastic, cocked my rhyme, blast it
 Trapicante classic, gun talk gymnastic
 The Bronx back to Brooklyn got my slang cold cookin
 Pull up in my four-hundred, mad bitches be lookin
 And I'm a rude boy, wit lyrics to seek and destroy
 My gold tec gonna blast niggas from here to Quebec
 Yo I'm Bronx-born, Brooklyn-raised
 You niggas get more than grazed, when I blaze my gauge
 It's not a arcade, dun my gun is real as AIDS
 I'm Holyfield, rappers is Tyson these days, Darkman