[Verse One: Esoteric]

Yo, cats who bite my stick get the damaged tooth

The shit so hot, the lab's like a tanning booth

The Duck Hunt, point 'em out and these words just hit me

I can shoot from any angle like Dirk Nowitzki

Full of myself, can't find a shirt that fits me

Piss on wack rappers 'til I burst a kidney

Seay's sick, I got this amazing gift

To leave you beside yourself like Agent Smith

Like an ancient myth, E-S machete mics

Clear 'em out, who air 'em out like sweaty Nikes

My fam, stay real while I heard your clan's gay

Plus I saw you with your man Ray leavin {?}

On Monday, I heard that you were shit talkin

Tuesday I'm golfin six feet above your coffin

You can label me underground

Cause I rise to the occassion every time I come around

{*scratched*}

"The #1 duck hunter" "Esoteric"

"The #1 duck hunter" "You know the deal"

[Verse Two: P.T.U.]

Yo it's the duck killer regiment, skills from the best of men

Born in Bethlehem, y'all can read it in your testament

Clever pen, diss you estrogen feathermen

Break you down, until you soft like sediment

Only pay homage to the bombers and the veterans

Reverand, of artistic letterin

Hit you in the head until you need Excederin

Advils, aspirins, done from my scepter's end

Like it was swung by Skeletor, that's hella raw

Hit you with the kitchen sink plus the cellar door

Over my knee, show you what the belt is for

Nabo Rawk{?} and Esoteric they be yellin for

Front row at a show melt your melon core

Your CD sucks, it would never sell in stores

Labels got dough for you they ain't backin

I slice your bill off and stop you ducks from quackin

The Duck Hunt

{*scratched*}

"The #1 duck hunter"

"It's Esoteric!" (Yeah)

[Esoteric]

We hunt ducks and strangle dumb fucks

With numchuks to leave the crowd clappin like Dunbuck's{?}

The rap avalanche, I get in my stance

And strike the mic like a kid escapin Neverland Ranch

[P.T.U.]

Remote control cruise a dart through your heart, tear your crew apart

And put your fuckin thoughts through a cuisinart

Cats talk gats but that shit's wack to me

You only spray clips paintin guns in a factory

[Esoteric]

Yo swoopin in out the left, out for death

You're out of breath, I speak my clout and it's fresh

See Es' is the name, I'm here to save the game

Like Dennis Eck' (we went from E-R-S to F-N-X)

"The pterodactyl"

"TOO, MUCH, POSSE!" - Flavor Flav