Verse 1:
Do we have any challengers?
I'm taking the winnings with the "and one"
That crossover appeal ain't overboard for handsome
Amounts of cash that's off the gla**
Reflected in Drew's Lenscrafters
That the right price wanted for the man with the skinny
Mics I rock nice for a fat pretty penny. (She just a little thick)
Headed to the word bank to dumb it down a bit
Then withdraw to tell her how ever much the counterfeit
They say that money talks, but talk is cheap
For what it's worth, it's price is in it's quality
Though some object subjectivity
What's priceless and worthless is in your E-Y-E
The way I see it, creativity is where it's at
And lyricism; if you're questioning where it's at
Apparent that I'm your emcee; you don't agree
I dare you get on the beat and
Chorus:
Come on down, come on down
Come on down, boy (~8x)
What you want?
Verse 2:
Kid gloves off, now I'm bare knuckling
Like the echidna, beware when I'm scuffling
Don't want to trade hands, get decked like I'm shuffling
k** your crew showboating; I'm swashbuckling
Nothing to pirate, write it with my own pen
Take your cadence, have it make sense, then stack my own ends
Matter of fact, it happens in rap; rappers want slappers
Get trapped in the trap; even the sk**ed caught in the act like
Homie said you spitting bars but
Bro Bro you ain't said zip
bu*ton up or get strapped down
So I ain't tied to your hits
Unscramble that cause them rambled tracks
Got me wanting the times of Hannah Montana back
Cause then I had the best of both -- you know
So if you relate to my pain and you flow
Chorus
Verse 3:
Listen I'm too clean
Grittier, wittier spitting here's getting you too mean
Murk them and hurt them with verses that fit in the slipstream
Really Really want to want to zig-a-zig Ah!
Then I'm penning them lyrics like voilas then appears gwallah
That talent, talent been here, been here like I'm Gullah Gullah Island
I've been Out of the Box since Rolie Polie Olie
Slowly grown into the Teen Titan seen writing "Booyah!"
While you XJ9's were getting booed off
Whatever happened to the Robot Jones-ing
For a microphone fostering imagination at home?
He was cutting tracks like Samurai Jack
But ahead of his time in line at the brink of rhymes revival
On the Bible, that's my truth and nothing but it
You can call this my Genesis; I just call you Ro-bu*t-nik
The game, I run it. To console ain't in the budget
Want the spot of the mascot? Well, I ain't budging
But I'll tell you
Chorus 2x