(00:11)
I'll be that only brotha runnin' for office/
After I gun down my opponents/
They lookin' for my weakness/
But can't find exposed components/
Tell the runner-ups I send my condolences/
Shove dirt in the face of defeat when I'm focused/
There isn't a rapper today to me that sounds potent/
So none of you mothaf**as are important/
I'm omnipotent and omniscient of all my foes/
And I do dirt with the king of the underworld/
Mush them faces into defeat of mine/
Because these feet of mine are trampling every line/
Stand in line, get in line, get positioned to be on-time/
That's Westside/
Murder and rhythm play a role cuz I'm the playwright/
Finish him like a d**h move, hand-to-hand, no play fight/
Stay right but steer left/
Be down but stay up/
Get the criss but don't come cross, the diagonal step/
Gold runs in my blood from the pharaohs, word to King Tut/
Tried By 12, and died by one, punch to the gut/
Biblical intercourse, like Holy f**/
Feelin' green for that money, no Milwaukee Bucks/
It's bad that you s** like oral s**/
It's even worse that you copped a feel for some pecs/
So what's next, you wanna be the best?/
I tell you it's a different mark for the same quest/
Unbearable, lyrical, cynical, admirable, pinnacle, pentagon/
Dinner's on, physically in trembles/
AVON shellin' out more than pimples/
Or do I mean Clearisil?/
Scraped from the top, watch me clear the ceil-ing/
Skin peel-ing, that sh** needs some action/
I'm all for Play60, gonna need to be more pro-active/
See what happened? The Michelin Man won't be so happy/
Fingers touched on the surface, white gold crust from Pappy/
Mason, I'm back and staging a criminal affirmation/
Who's back is against the wall of 'em all while I'm steady racin'?/
Fettucini, linguini, pasta, lasagna, spaghetti; extra cheesy/
Pretty greasy, feelin' easy but too queasy/
Nicki without the Scottie, then they can't beam me/
Silk pockets, pen is a rocket, shootin' down DOW stocks and/
Runnin' amuck in the cut, with a beautiful tux/
Plaid tie too, I might move to the Bay soon/
I stay cool like a horror game playthrough/
Shots outta the dark, guess who wants to play by two?/
I'm a multi-player, I play a multitude through cake routes/
What you call an easy bop, might be something you can't escape from/
They can't understand or comprehend the Kidd/
They wanna chase a brotha down and apprehend the Kidd/
I'm sick, still/ Meaning I'm coughing up your guts and blood I had as a meal/
PAX ceremony every year/
Arcade pennies for the expo, play me dead & square/
I know what you fear, the possibility of you runnin' out of style/
Tagalong with MGK, he ain't the only boy that's wild/
Now lace up, get ya cake up, tell your mind to wake-up/
Prosthetic pussies, y'all ain't nothin' but fake f**s/
Say what?/ Get hit from a barrel as long as my last name/
Abdul-Ha--(BLAO!)/ Disintegrate your whole frame/
Oh mane, I don't need Gucci as a mention/
Let me get that juice man, without the OJ in it/
Sun as bright as a Jaguar, it darkens the godly pigment/
Synonyms filled with metaphors, but it's only a figment/
Of imagination; burnin' rubber like drag-racing/
You can Bow Wow all you want, I don't give a Shad baby/
The boy mad crazy/ I feel like Radric Davis/
I'm always in trouble for kickin' em while I'm on the move lately/
Or talkin' like I'm sort of outta my mind, but quite shady/
Lyrically, you ain't touchin' me n***a, so stand still like gravy/
The minute you move, it's over for you then you start fading/
Bars Over the Populace/ Y'all want Popular Demand and all that/
I'm lookin' for Bars On-Demand like it's Comcast/
I drink from your girl's a** every minute, my own flask/
You a chump that likes dirty bu*t, ya punk a**/
You fail at gettin' booty at all, ya flunk a**/
You see I drum pa** fast in the ocean/
Like a rowboat with chicken bones for paddles on it/