Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a rapper that's wack As a matter of fact, I smack a back of the style, jackets are now Mellow minced, defeatin the mental And become Gentle as Ben, but then they stibble and dribble And bend like a pencil The only utensil I got, is brain power And you know it's essential I rock, I rain showers Sleet snow and raise hella eyebrows with my styles You're wondering how wild When what where, made ladies so horny They can't even be showin they butt bare Look up there, beside the birds the planets the hawk The rappers who talk the mo' shit I'm makin em walk the plank they stank I'm takin they rank They tossed tiddlewinks I'm playin em like that game I'm gunnin and rackin and packin em up And I'm runnin this here rap thang Main, you wanna go to war, I'll take you I physically break you, when I break through I'm makin you fake crew, you made a mistake fool I hate you MC's, I'll grate you like cheese I may choose to squeeze, my pencil And write out a couple of rhymes Whooooaaaa, whooa my goodness!!! Are we slaughterin, is this just slaughter MC night? Or somethin man, what is this? Is this all the aggression you ever had? How many MC's must get ripped, before By says don't flip with the Gift You know? That's what I'm talkin bout How many MC's must get dismissed Before somebody says, don't trip with the Gift *laughter* You know, it's all good KP and SloganMasters in the house, the Cheezit Terrorist And we chillin at 90.3 we got thirteen minutes left And then we got Brenda Short, and her records
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