But I can't go easy on 'em man
I can't go easy on 'em, hahahah
I might've went lighter but they all biters
I'm a freestyler and a writer, they neither
They can't face this tiger, I'm nicer
Brighter, tiger, these cats hiding out like al-Qaeda
I got these clubs locked down like Elmira
You rap minors are whiners, you rap like vaginas
I take it back to sixty-niners
Black low-top with three stripes on the side sir
I'm the truth for these liars
They try to downplay my legacy like Public Enemy
but I'm a Street Rhymer in superposition
There's like ten of me and all of 'em dissing
In the past, present and future position
You need to listen, when Kris is in you getting christened
I'm on a mission to preserve what I'm spitting
I was written and if I'm freestyling, wires hidden
Stop fishing for beef, you all chicken
You turkeys need a tomato so let us start spitting
"Street Rhymer in superposition" - 4X
Tribe of Shabazz, cocoa and hash, persian Don' Don'
Lean back and we chilling with jag
Baby what's up? Boots Gore-Tex, jeans munched up
Good with the six-pack, stomach is crunched up
Hula hoop New York, swing around, take loot
Niggas got guns but they scared to shoot
Cops chase 'em in the building, they run to the roof
We in the projects, put the window down, park the coupe
Ring around the Rosie, spark the snoot
Eyes all red like you was hiding truth
True Master swing beats, sword cut your roots off
Hit y'all with lectures, y'all mind was too soft
Villains for life, New York, Stat' and Africa
Walk slow, yo the Feds always after ya
Keep a cellphone that's able to take flicks
just in case the po'-po' hit you with they sticks