Yeah yeah 
Fuck all these niggaz 
You know what I'm talkin' about Wino 
Yeah yeah yeah 
Two minutes and twenty one seconds of funk 
And I ain't no punk 
That's right that's right 

A tisket a tasket 
That's all you ask it 
Snap your cd and drop the pieces in your casket 
Like little Jack Horna' I'm still bendin' cornas' 
Buckin' shots on your block I'm sippin' on Corona's 
Uh your McDonald had a farm wit' a six-fo on suicide 
Sittin' in the barn wit' no alarm 
Straight up collected it, cool and calm 
Crowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charm 
Who's the rawest? 
My shit is flawless 
Had to be passin' out bruises, 
Lacerations and broken jawses 
Emcees wanna floss you better understand who's the boss 
Before I do a Michael Jackson and "Cut your shit off!" 
Part of the penitentary still, penetratin' your grill 
I keep on keepin' it right, while you keep on keepin' it real 
I'll bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waist 
Coolio's on the case, get yo hoe out my face, fool 
Lodi Dodi, I don't know karate, but I know a razor 
And none of y'all can't fade me 
I know you wanna try to play me 
And busta's wanna playa hate me 
I'm one of the dopest niggaz out I 
Guess that's why they hate me 
Cause I slang hits like niggaz slang cavi 
I remain like khakis, I guess that's why they mad at me 
On a record you might outgat me 
But you can't outrap me 
My shit is fatta' 
And yo shit need a little bit mo batta' 
Freestyle in unrestricted manner or method 
Free funk text readily selected, so check it 
Uh, ?dip diver?, socializer, I've been rockin' 
These motherfuckin' microphones since nineteen seventy-niner, 
And by the time that this little nappy head nigga retire 
I'ma be at the ripe ol' age of forty-eight or forty-niner 
My shit is wise, CPT M.C. for hire 
My name ain't Rick James but I'll burn your ass with a fire 
So, what's your desire baby love? 
Is it hands wrapped around mics 
Or fingers wrapped around triggas? 
Eitha' way it go I'm dumpin' and I'm dippin' 
Still tennis shoe pimpin', 40 Thevz in position 
Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, now nigga I'm a giant 
And yo ass is like Jack, 
But yo magic beans is wack 
Skills is what you lack 
I'm like a Benz, you ain't even like Cadillac 
You mo like a Regal 
I'ma pit bull, and you's a Beagle 
I'm set to strangle hangin' emcee's at all angles 
As their legs start to dangle, 
Dance around everybody like Mr. Bo Jangles 
Los Angeles, Compton, Long Beach, and Carson Hawthorne 
Livin with the Watts 
I'm sendin' out shout outs 
I used to drink Ol' Gold 
Now I just stroll 
Straight to the ?exit? section of my neighborhood liquor store 
Huh, and you know what make me laugh, bitch? 
Even your mama want my autograph, autograph, autograph, 
Autograph, autograph