[Chorus x4]

Whatever will be will be Que Sera, Sera

[Verse 1]

My rhymes wake them up, they're snoring ignoring yours

Yours are as boring as four in the morning chores

I'm more into going touring exploring the foreign shores

Spit thunder; performing in pouring storms

Original, never conforming to boring norms

Got a cheap Mic and recorded in Florida dorms

They loved me, I was supported before the swarms

Of garbage emcees, distorting the art form

Underground; under the floor in the corridors

The undeniable Rap Lord of the orators

I was sort of broke, too poor to afford a Porsche

Pulling up slamming the doors of the Ford Explorers

Buying backwoods that we'd score at the corner stores

Rest In Peace rapper I'm pouring a quart of Coors

On the floors outside of the doors of the Source Awards

On the front lines I spit a chorus before the war

Rapper you're rapping like your clitoris is sort of sore

You're sounding like you need some sort of Thesaurus

Or a Dictionary your vocabulary sure is poor

Study my old raps and learn metaphors galore

I'm the raw truth, the Universe will endorse

I'm tapped in to the source of enormous force

Hip Hop was dead they reported a dormant corpse

But Benefit lives you were misinformed of course

[Chorus x4]

Whatever will be will be Que Sera, Sera