[Verse 1]
Is your target me? You must have a d**h wish
I'm like a disease; the touch will leave you infected
I'm sick with the rhymes, kid, you're sick without them
I write the best rhymes to know, tell me about them
I doubt you'll have the clout to knock me out
In this bout, you lout, you don't know what I'm about
I'm the Iron Voice, stepping up to me would be a stupid choice
Even your boys know I'll turn them into Backstreet Boys
Like the singers, I count your last minutes with five fingers
My dogs behind me and on the roof? They're some gunslingers
See, my mouth is the rifle and the words are the bullets
And the beat is the trigger, cause it plays like when I pull it
The Machine Gun Song proves all nonbelievers wrong
We can go all night long, cause I'm too strong
Sound the gong of Hong Kong
Signifies the strongest has won, and this is only Round One...
(scratches between "FIGHT!")
[Verse 2]
There are some men that you just can't reach
So I teach with this speech I preach to each and every one of you
Listening and witnessing the sickening, sizzling rhymes that'll leave you crippling
Like paraplegia, all over the media
My rhymes is leukemia or sicker than hemophilia
You could read the words all over the encyclopedia
Said by the African with a shade of sepia on the skin
Who walks to you with a grin
One to the shin, then to the chin
But the battle was about to begin
Foot on his chest signals the win in Round 2
And the whole fight is fin...