Intro/chorus: repeat 4x
Who you won test, me have a champion style
Verse one:
Meet the mic controller, the philly roller, the wicked one
Sun rude bwoy come rhymes off top the head
Said what i said and did what i did
Never catch another bid, create rubbers and slid
I'm out of there, ghost evaporate vanish
Callate la voca if need be i'm spanish
No habla ingles, police ask questions
I don't know nuttin, ain't nuttin happening, stop stressing
I'm headed down the alleyway
With the smith on my hip, shank in my hand, who's the man
You won test, who me?
I think you better back up and chill, g
Don't make me mad boy, don't even try
Eyah got sk**s, eyah smoke mad thai
You steppin to a brother who been through it all
My freestyle is wild you nah won test my yes y'all
You think you got flavor to match?
You can get a smack for that, black
Chorus
Verse two:
Nobody can do it
You runnin out of gas sun, leakin much fluid
I'm hungry like jack two inches away from a big mac
Then buck buck buck
Take that witcha on the way down, so you don't feel the ground
When you hit, and your head splits, f** all that bullsh**
It's hectic, respect it, the dialect, i come
Original, the intellect, refuses to tongue twist
So don't tell me naythan
Me have a champion style, hardcore with a taste of jamaican
You steppin to the wrong one the nine is the seed of jesus
I get loose on ninety proof
Fatter than a bubble goose, unpredictable
You never know what i'm going to say after i say
What i say when i say what i say when i play, next?!?
There it is, who you won test
Interlude:
The deceased resented the fact, and told him off in no uncertain terms
He still kept coming, he identified himself, and then drew his revolver
Chorus
Verse three:
Cream of the crop nonstop hip-hop
Funky stuff rough enough to, break up the handcuffs
Scuff a cream puff like an old pair of boots
When the nine millimeter shoots the gift i was born with
Who's that, with the b**by trap, poisoning rap
With the wack bullcrap, we can't have that
Shut him down, i'm underground
And if my sound hits the airwaves of pop, it'll still be hip-hop
No samples from barry manilow
Strictly timbo, you know, the whole 40 below
That's how i'm rollin in the nines
Nine-five, nine-six, nine-seven to get mines
Outro:
Yeah i'm sending this out to all you bigmouth
Knucklehead s**ers that was talkin all that garbage
I am the man, who you won test, punk?