Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book?
  Look give it back you're wicky wack
  With your ticky tack calls didn't touch you at all
  I didn't touch your hand man you know its all ball
  You sold a few records but don't get slick
  'Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
  You've been in the game, your career is long
  But when you break it down you've only got 2 songs
  MC's are like clay pigeons and I'm shootn' skeet
  I just yell pull and MMM drops the beat
  You people call yourselves MC's but you're garbage men
  Takin' out the trash when you pull out the pen
  
  And if you don't like then hey fuck you!
  
  I read about you up on page 6
  They was trashin' your ass it's sad you're getting dissed
  Now talk about your face now don't get pissed
  But I suggest you see a dermatologist
  I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
  It's gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
  I've got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
  'Cause I've got more rhymes than Carl Sagan's got turtlenecks
  Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
  You're hearing me and you're like "oh my god its Sasquatch!"
  I'm walkin' on water while you're stepping in shit
  So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets lit
  
  And if you don't like then hey fuck you!
  So put a quarter in your ass cause you played yourself
  
  Sucker MC's it's me they're resenting
  In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
  With the dipsy doodle the kit and caboodle
  The truth is brutal your grandma's kugel
  Kings County is my stomping ground
  The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
  So don't ask me to wine and dine ya
  I'm from Brooklyn you're from Regina
  You're like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
  You're just yellin' and wildin' wondering who I am
  With those lies you're telling you look like Toucan Sam
  But my style's impregnable like the Hoover Dam
  
  And if you don't like then hey fuck you!