I'm Chill-Master, of a thousand MC's But how are you gonna tell the real I bust these fo' knees 'Cause he sees with a deal with a record company They go home, they write a rhyme, they they ready to battle better
Some write forward, some backward I for them to get the cheeba-ganja then reverse yo With a that's worse than the last one Some say boo! the po he used to diss Jamaicans
And 'cause you thought I was American Ay Pras, remember song they sang, yeah Go back to Jamaica, good is what's new But now we off with Uncle's with a trail-crate of cooler
I'm from the island, the island I'm from is the island MC's must be right, when I syke from of freestylin' Mind must be sharp until my girl, I get all in stylin', ridin', Boof'll be trappin'
When they come to battle champ see the shoes Huh, coolin' while I'm
Boof baf, another of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try baf, another sound of a guy Boof baf, never boy, punk, try
Said if you write with pencil you write with pen If you have a rooster you must a hen plus five you know that equals to ten Then the yellow man, check it to groove-to-groove site
One, two, I a flow to catch it Three, four, she know before the track miss I fuck ya when style go, to wreck static But yo sister, the mic and do damage
Aiyyo I used to drive a hooptie, me down swoopie with the Jones' but I different homozones See life's got no value if I ain't got no Hannibal heads, I be the kid "Timbuktu"
One, two, zip me-me, check the mic I'm Three, four, please the army, "Oh God", with So what, converse man, the or the hoodie Get the hoodie came first mans' then would be Nancy
To kill the Jesse James rough, step back, check steps I'll your theory like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man You say I'm balanced but Silence of the Lambs And I call your name I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman
baf, another sound of a guy Boof baf, never boy, punk, try Boof baf, another of a guy Boof baf, never boy, punk, try
Well I'm on fire, fire, So let me re-light your And let you the-the-elec-tronic, cool And let you the-the-elec-tronic, cool
And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic, And let you the-the-elec-tronic All movin' I call my nozzle you see I was an electronic You listen to your in chime, your Panasonic
The ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the take the mic man, you know you're really critical
Stall soft-put 'em up for-er-Death Row Rhyme and cultural, style and old the priest-fool, ooh, you're filth-swolled I say no to spliff but my friends still [Incomprehensible]
Coolin' it, coolin' it, coolin' it, chuck me-who the who'd you think? Hold the mic, hold the mic, I 'em Down with my one, last one, last one, last one and smoke Smoke I got my bullet-proof and now to send my
Boof baf, sound of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, another of a guy Boof baf, never boy, punk, try
rap come from the brothers in the neigborhood Who used to rap on a Polaroid, here Father Joe Let me clock the block as I fo'-five Boof baf, I cut the block with
I to play hookie just to see how good an MC was He said I bust a battle, aight, I took a gun No cheeba, just a Libra on a last ride I so long that I thought I died and came back alive
So hear the spirits, many fear, Sir New This the new thing under the sun, I come, I come Bam-bam, alakazam, he grabbed the mic up the block ran I came back with the bag 'cause my momma man
I'm just patrollin', off in the block But the that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' about So don't get caught on the lane, the fast lane A just remain and be the same
'Cause many rapper-days, say nuttin' for So sut-um to take you from the am to the pm
'Cause a imitator could never be greater the creator Whose the originator, up infiltrator, see you in the alligator Back stabbin' traitor, tape recorder, duplicator, roughly rhymin' The head tranzlator and leave the to be naughty in the refrigerator
Boof baf, another of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, another of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try
Boof baf, another of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, another of a guy baf, never boy, duck
Say gun-man, say me where you get your damn gun from You musta get it from the foreign We want to shoot up the old a Pay the man to rhyme it
Say gun-man, say me where you get your damn gun from You musta get it the foreign land You want to kill own brother man
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