Let's take this shit back to fuckin' high school lunch time cyphers When mother fuckers was beat boxin' And kickin' ill ass flows in the fuckin' cafeteria Fuck all that Hollywood shit!
This that high school lunch time cypher I might just step in this bitch and fuck ya life up I hope the principal doesn't come and give me a write up Now who the fuck I gotta snatch the mic from? I spend a long time tryna [?] the buzz Hop is in the building, cuz Step to me a bonus battlefield, you know I will erupt Didn't change, I'm still a nut The girls seen my skills are up So I be gettin' head every single night like a pillow does When a nigga be flow bashin' You know I be keepin it old fashioned My compassion is so tragic on instrumentals when I toe jag it Throw dirt on me? Then guard your face and stomach Cause I'm swinging on you like ya ass cheeks had a rope hangin' from it I tried to read the Bible but I'm straight illiterate I put myself in strange predicaments They labeled this as sick The doctor says to take some Ritalin I'll mack on any chick I feel who got the cutest tits Robbin' yo whip to cruise in it See, I'm the only kid on Elm Street that Freddy Krueger skipped Pants saggin' cause they too loose to fit Grab a hammer and nail for your front door and board it shut I stare deep in ya eyes, rip out your soul and absorb it up And have Biggie Smalls yellin' out "Call the coroner!" They always call to say "Hopsin can you fly me out to Cali? Please pay for me" I make that pussy pop for you like you skateboarding Then you can come inside like a hurricane warning But now I feel like having sex with these bitches is not enough I needed something new for moments when I gotta bust So lately I've been beating my dick with a pair of boxing gloves I'll stab you in the brain with a knife You can keep that in mind You talkin' shit inside yo house? I'll break in and stomp you out inside of it I'll knock you out and when you wake up I'll just be standin' there with a mischievous grin I'll puncture yo skin with a crack fiend's syringe And drill your nut sack to the seat your in You want props? You don't deserve it, you're not ill I won't stop 'til every rapper lurkin' has got chills Why these niggas actin' like they certainly pop steels