I was a child writing sonnets, acquiring higher knowledge
While you fuccbois couldn't grow up with hydroponics-
You marks better tuck in your chain and hide your wallets
If not, you put your shine on the line like fiber optics-
(High exalted) The man of the final hour
Try to flip the script and I'm climbing behind the counter-
The only way that I drop it's like Eisenhower
Cause the radio's been ticking me off; no Geiger Counter-
My fire power scorches sh** like in the torture skit
I can take you out of this world as quick as Morpheus-
Form a first and send an MC-Fly'in back
Cause his DeLorean's the only one to make a fire track-
I treat a cypher with cats like MILF huntin'
Those pussies can claim that they're tight till I fist f** ‘em-
So keep sniffin' my lines; my sh**'s bumpin'
These lips spit out more pies than a brick oven-