[Introduction]
My tiger kung-fu is better than yours
I don't think you're good enough to avenge your master
G-Lynx y'all!
Guess who's back!
Modenine!
He's back!
[Verse 1]
If life's a bitch, then procrastination is a cheap ho!
I'm the president of rap, so I address my people
Every time I grab the microphone and make my teeth show
It's excitement like watching sex through a peep hole
Negro! You better not be there when I pounce
You're the broke rapper, even your mic-checks bounce
One ounce of pimp juice, you never owned, you never lie?
You's a virgin, that's why you're fucking a pie
Ducking from I, dodge like American cars
Punchlines and bars
Fuck the hunger, I got the thirst
To spit the cypher unrehearsed
Till my lungs burst
Serving you with a verse I consider my worst
So what if I curse? I got it in my rap like a mummy
All eyes on Lauryn Hill's figure, fuck Tommy
Not funny. The mainstream, I flow with it
My stomach has a bad sense of humor so I don't joke with it
[Chorus]
This man has no respect for me
[?] I know your [?]
Do you know what nemesis means
[?]
I don't think you're good enough
[?] formidable
Admit it, am I not? I'm better than you
[Verse 2]
I don't kid and play
When I display, I diss kids
You misfits colliding with I, crumble like biscuits
My album breaks ground like yolk so you whisk it
Off the shelf. You need space? I throw you a diskette
And save the hard drive for your chick
With too much lipstick!
Put me on a track I rips it
I'm Mr. Fix it. Mr. Get Ballistic
To break your back, I shit on Bad Boys like 2Pac
On new tracks, I train the crews till they call me coach
And I reproach a wack pun for every rhyme he posts
Switched my accent. I'ma kill you like a fucking roach if you approach
I squash your puny frame with a high kick
The nature of my victory is cyclic;
Perfect; and never once was it pyrrhic!
Hip hop is dying slowly watch me revive it
Bring forth the Holocaust, few will survive it
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Step to me and get left in still Mode like my statue
When you run, you're like the flu in winter, I catch you
Aaatsu! Let me come again, rewind selector
I'm real so you see me on your cinema projector
The Trojan is for your girlfriend, she called me Hector
I hit that! Word on the street is you only pecked her
Esoteric verses I spit put crews on stretchers
You get the stick treatment, my dogs will fetch ya
I don't drive by I walk on crews with my Sketchers
Crosshatcher 'cause you're always acting shady
Soup like gravy - I'll scar you like Seals without the Navy
Maybe I might cut you open to keep you short
If you life was a play, then I'm bored to the gut
Jumped on stage, possessed the director and screamed cut
'Cause you specialize in kissing batty man butt
It's a wrap, folks, like the mummy of King Tut!