Ay yo
I don't remember what the fuck
But yo
I said, I'm nicer than the good Samaritan
I make it rain, no wax but like a tribal African
Got a call from my tall Spanish friend (ooh)
Rugburn city, and now my knees need bandagin'
Nah, the smoke's not loud, it's obnoxious
I spit cyber-hot shit to fry your fiber-optics
Watch this magic trick, quickly cut this bitch in half
Then walk off colder than a winter draft
Ask Mulder and Scully, Deck's style, X-File
Extra-terrestrial, wow alien flow, cooler, Super-Saiyan blow
Rebel of mighty Wu Clan
Handin' out ass-whippins on a group plan
So call me Mr. CZARFACE
More action than the fight scene, the shootout, and the car chase
Spoken word on 'em, right?
Villain gone haywire, hey liar, don't cry wolf, say fire
Pray higher, old guy'll stay by ya
The outcome cost more than what you paid prior
Turbulence from circumstance
Quite perceptive, do his dance, moment he turned and glanced
It's worth a thousand words, cowards die a thousand deaths
Sounds fresh, so pay up with a pound of flesh
Now the test like cops barged in and found the mess
Outcome critical, lay down in the ground and rest
Wake up in a million years, still here with his Villain peers
Hittin' gears for another pill and beers
Me and Jorjito crack a joke, and still in tears
(hahahahaha) Guess God is a comedian
While the poor get devoured in the jaws of greedy men
Whose daughter's out dancin' to techno and BDM
Sell soul? Heck no, sucker, 'til we meet again
Saga of the Villain, brand new chapters, do amass new billions
Barf krill on masses and rose-gold pavilions
Rare form of integrity, oughta draw gazillions
All in they feelin's, hatin' gets you nowhere
Go home, practice one-two checks, oh yeah
Word
Okay alright yo, you brought a knife to a gunfight
Yeah well I would do that and stab the shooter, broad sunlight
Tadada, I'm bank of rehab, no secrecy
I'm seekin' treatment for beatin' MCs repeatedly
You petty locals, made for soft shit like Kenny Chesney vocals
Mine are more like Reggie Noble's
Yeah, I'm up in this bitch with Fonzarelli
Leave MCs ate, Eazy, no Compton deli
Oh boy, we in here like Chris Mullin
I'ma do a heel turn and kick your fuckin' skull in
And walk away spittin' poetry like Countee Cullen
I'm the one true king of this one-two thing
The way I kick bars and darts
You'd think I mixed Marshall's art with mixed martial arts
