[Intro: Mr. Metaphor]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Mr. Met, C-Rayz, Breez Evaflowin'

Forever knowin' – word up

Yo, let that beat drop, you nah'mean?

I want to hear that shit, to make my head rock

Yeah... I like it

Check it out... yo, yea, Mr. Met... check it out... yo

[Verse 1: Mr. Metaphor]

Challenge me (Uh-huh), I'll split you like a personality (Uh-huh)

Toss one into the ocean and the other off the balcony

Take a bite of me? You wanna battle me badly?

Son, you sadly mistaken—I'm taking your heart for charity

Make you a memory, forever remember the melody (Uh-huh)

Mystically, magically casting a spell—put you in agony

Half of me's energy, half of me's chemically imbalance-y

I challenge the majority (What), muthafuck authority

Spit like there was four of me

Metaphorical imagery, wintery wonderland lifting me visually, vividly

Son, I'm living the life, stripping the light out of the galaxy

Brooklyn Academy, climbing around the walls of insanity

[Verse 2: Breez Evahflowin']

Yeah, I stomp beats with the feets of extinct reptiles

I drink shit outta red vials 'til shit get foul

Set style into motion like the mic mechanism

Mic check the rhythm

Furious Five live, got reincarnated on a different timeline

S-T-R, the O... you know the rest (Stronghold!)

Flow the best

Happy seeing cops with exploded vests (Blaow!)

I'm so depressed, I write rhymes to go to rest

Sold the best shit this side of a death kiss

Restless, spit aggressive, like "Fuck y'all" (Y'all!)

Expose y'all for bitches—now the bitches won't fuck y'all (Naw!)

What's up, y'all? I spit, now you're giving shit up?

All the talking, now you like walking on lava

There's the mic, but don't bother

I'm alike to your father

I write, tip the barber blade, snip a clip

Transform to Mxyzptlk, start super-baffling hypocrites

Six shots short of a single clip

Bust off your wing with this

Your DJ swing on my single' dick!

Rock it like he fucking back me up on the road

But let Static reload—he too tragically goes

And your label ain't gon' help you neither

I'm a believer in internet fever that got 'em falling to the Queen of Shiva

This shit is wet and you ain't no water-breather

You better leave this shit to Breezer

Take a breather

[Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz]

I'm one of the illest things you can think of

Like Sisqó, slapping Mike Tyson with a pink glove

I know you fucked up

Y'all should've dropped acapellas

'Cause you smoke crack, that don't make you down with Roc-A-Fella!

You're a bastard, aborted from the mothership

Like a greedy fly, you always on some other shit

These ain't battles (...What?), these are lyrical punishments

I'm your Pops, man—look at what I done to the kids!

I feel bad—it's because of me that they spit

Your moms went to buy tissue, never came back

I knew she was full of shit

You wack and the fact you and I know both–

The best rhyme of your life will be a suicide note

That's a joke

I did an in-store

Took your girl to my house and did it in-whore

Told her I was a Ewok from the planet Endor

You lack! Fuck rap! Play an accordion, y'all

You couldn't rock the crowd if you threw stones at the audience, the balls

With one score, ya'll found out–we too raw

I've seen so much bitch in ya'll, I thought you were shoe stores

I slap crews for sounding wacker than Shaq-Fu

Until Redman comes through and screams, "That's you!"

And you all better say is "I'll beee wack,"

Or I'll react like hammers just tapped my kneecaps

Blat!