Yo, nineteen ninety-three
New year, new world champions
Hahaha like this
Yo, the ill-minded mack will find the facts
I rhyme and acts, niggaz bound til Im attacks
When niggaz say I cant rhyme I recline
Im the first to tell you, I got gs in my verse who tell me
It hurts a fella when I rip, because Im sly slick
The nigga fly chicks ride dick with me
Im leaving niggaz stranded man thats how I planned it
Landed blows with my random flows
And it goes -- a little something like this
And I might diss, with my right fist I strike kids like a pitcher do
I split your bitch you better switch or I twist ya
I play tricks like a mix
When booty niggaz miss the beat
I figure that they wack I go and get my bat and a pack of swisher sweets
Plus be ill when I bust the grill but we chill
