[Intro: James Brown sample]

One! Two! Three! Four!

Hit it!

[Lord Finesse]

Uh! Uh, uh

2003

Lord Finesse

[Verse 1: Lord Finesse]

I used to coach the team, see, I'm better on the mic

Find an ace up my sleeve, never on the dice

Pushin' a 2002 if you shout and you stare

Sittin' on 110 if you countin' the spare

See, ya out ya mind tryna face the God

Your rhyme is like an empty prison — a waste of bars

No time to flash, see, I scrape the squad

We don't ask for shit, we just take what's ours

Got the skills of titanium, straight to the cranium

Try to play me and we can go to war like Iranians

The deep cat, I speak rap

As long as the beat phat, my shit'll be off the meat rack

Lord Finesse — don't harass the God

Spit four bars and piss on like half ya squad

Sorta savage, I don't gay bash, I slaughter faggots

You niggas playin' Russian Roulette with automatics

See, on the street, yo, I'm top of the rank

Three words when I get the dice: "Stop the bank"

Bet against me? Yeah, you get your cash tooken

Even my street team promote nothin' but ass whoopins

How can you win in this world so cruel?

When ya learn the game, niggas change the rules

Ya gotta keep cool, get down and make moves

Show and prove in this land where cash rules

If money makes the world go 'round, so be it

I been broke before, ain't tryna repeat it

If your plan ain't talkin' 'bout grands, I don't need it

Your vision ain't picturin' C.R.E.A.M.? Can't see it!

[Verse 2: Percee P]

A rap battle I can't be in

'Cause I'll flip on the bastards like a gymnastic champion

I entertain well, amateurs lose stamina

Tryna examine the lyrics that damage your brain cells

Yeah, I pulled it — the gat's trigger on fake black niggas

And wack niggas makin' bullshit

Y'all niggas gotta quit poppin' a lot of shit

I'm not a bit impressed with your raps, so snap out of it

Foes with audacity tryna smash the P

Won't last with me usin' they full capacity

Rhymes I give ya flow like a river with a high tide

I glide swifter and different from others

Take a note or two 'fore your shit flops

And you get dropped by the Hip-Hop's Quotable

Catch the pro at this and Kodak this

'Cause your wackness can't flow like this, so go practice

Y'all ain't lyrically wit' it, physically fitted to take a hit

I'll break your shit and make you quit if you try to get it

My rap recital on tracks are vital

That's why no one attacks and tries to snatch my title

If you're clever, never play me close, champ

When I kick it, I get wicked

I'm lickin' and stickin' it like a post stamp

It takes six, I can make hits a cappella

I should sell a million, never livin' like Rockefeller

Got deals in the rap field

The reason I got bills 'cause I got ill usin' rap skills

And yes, y'all, as I bless y'all

It's me Percee P and Lord Finesse, y'all, fresh, y'all

[Sample scratched & repeated]

Boogie Down Bronx!