Tekst piosenki
Chorus 4X "One, two, yeah and you don't stop" "One, two, huh and you don't stop" "Ah check it out" [O.C.] Style like somethin the microphone fiend would spark Sort of reminiscing, of how it used to go down in the parks Equipment ropped off, you can hear the vagas echo for miles and breath Bass pounds the asphalt Thunder vibration shake like a tremble from a earthquake and O.C. a classic in the making, mental make thoughts My physical form words Hot in my mouth like a joust, no doubt Some a phenomenon, mic technician, electrician Spit the mic down the middle like an el producto And throughout the resin, then asapoltin this shit Gift to gather a rhyme, make rap a staired son The way I do this, switch up the fluid So smooth you wanna persuie it I'm raw like underground sewage you This shit for insight? Well I'm back, never was gone What I right, be tighter than pin stripes Born by mob boss, my flause in affect on the mic Keep it tight, with out a fight is raw, it's only right [sample from live event] I know it's hot, we hot too You ready to throw down, we ready to have a party So if ya ready to have a party, make some noise! [O.C.] Any mic I hold it in the grip of my palm I wave it over the crowd Dictatin shit like Genghis Khan Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic schoolin Bringin samatics to this rap shit Bonafied, mic set you can't see me on it Master the art, so now I just flaunt it Born to live, a life and die until then Imma keep on writin the slick rhymes with the pen Take the cherry from a tree, like a virgin havin innocence Bust my nuts, bringin rhymes to live like Genesis But ritical renaissance In death there's a flautless Tearin shit up when it comes to me pickin up a cordless One of New York's finest, on this trip I co-incide with B Minus Bringin out the best in me, we formulatin like a recipe What I emplore, will show nuff disto my presence Then I'm divine like the seven Keepin it tight cuz what safice is raw nigga, it's only right Chorus 4X [O.C.] Microphone's I melt down, slap crowns, push em out of bounds Crush ya crowd, as I lay my third verse down Because, this is what I want, to gain control of that position It's only right, that I follow thru compition Be warning me, homocide rhymes or mad rounds To get flass or pencil hurt, battin me down Contents flex text expert, since my born date 5/13/71 like a stick bin, injection Inside ya blood stream, digest what I manifest O.C., you best by me, others are mediocre like I slam the earth like a meteor right Cuz I'mma take mine, leavin you face down in the puddle Blow up like a shuttle, when I give you my rebuttle Frame of mind, across state lines Await the taste, me like fine wines from Avidian For those who wanna select cyphers to cyphers stash Straight up, I don't rhyme for niggas I prove myself, stylin for years on the mic On another level of being, what's the B Minus? It's only right Chorus 4X
