word to your moms, i came to drop bombs. i got more rhymes than the bible's got psalms
And just like Moses, I part the sea
Then I'm gone with the breeze, I'm an MC
Freeze at thirty-two degrees, below zero
Without a doubt, I'm the real McCoy
The funky rhymes are easy to employ
I'm the tower of power, the king of the hour
Not a bad little rapper, for a cracker
So don't try to step to me with your fake beats and rhymes
Because they're outdated, like clockwork, just like your time
You're a watch that's rusted, my style is hot like mustard
So you better step aside, or you might get dusted
I'm the king of the hill, the top of the heap I'm a number one son, and I'm here to keep
the hip hop flowing, the rhymes keep going
And if you try to stop me, then you'll be showing
That you're just a poser, a wannabe MC A fake rapper, with no real pedigree
So don't even try, don't even attempt
To step to me, because I'm the champ
Word to your mom, I came to drop bombs
I got more rhymes than the bible's got psalms
So listen up closely, to what I'm saying
Because my rhymes are so dope, they'll leave you swaying