Ball player, but grew up to be the bat man
Mad man who talks smack with a mad back hand
But a bad back, still I pull my own weight
Gang way, make way for an emcee that's untamed
With the pen game to end ten names before the day ends
Take ten emcees who think that their dope
Bring in ten more in case the other one's choke
And ten reinforcements all with a mic cord
Now that's thirty emcees hanging three to a rope
Now the game's Adverse so it's on a Hiatus
So bring your tax papers, I'm collecting the payments
And putting C-O on the map, how's that for a statement
No arraignment, I got a license to k**
Thrill with sk** since before Foreman had grills
The technical spectacle of decibels
So terrible that all damage is irreparable
This is what happens when you put Canibus in a Big L
Or a Cool J and take a B.I.G. Puff, well
You can read Hieroglyphics like the grower's named Del
But it'll leave your eyes Crooked like you rap with Joell
Twelve bars to go like I'm trying to get lit
But I'm discussed, i guess that's why I spit
What time is it? Miller Time? No hammer time
Bringing down the hammer, so your head ache, morning after
But with all the power in my veins, we'll have mourning after hours
Cuz my mixtapes drop from the top of Trump Tower
We don't dump our clips, we're the type to reload after
And riddle you with bullets till you spell PIR backwards
So silent nobody cares if it goes down
Gets no news coverage like if Rihanna had beat Chris Brown
So while emcees were out guzzling pills
I was sharpening sk**s to get licensed to k**