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Alphabeta, wetta, than your man who says he can
Take a whole block, we put that ass on lock and
Styles be groovy, fake niggaz can't fool me
Cause I'm a fly brown brother and you can't school me
Tools be, always sharpened for MC's that be startin
Up shit, and can't fuck with, this rap sargeant
Bluffin, talkin bout nothin, in fact
These crews be wack, so may I ask, where yo skillz at?
Chorus
[Tame One]
It's no doubt what I'm about bustin yo shit out with my lyrical
Smokin botanicals I be the man that makes the miracles
Invisible if need be, see me on TV and on CD
Smokin beadies in 3-D doin graffiti
My mechanical style, interlocks rocks and shocks
Cause I'm hot, X marks the spot like Sadat watch
I'm so tight with mine, nickel and dime rhymers
Are smokin one quarter pushin off the corner from foul line
Prime time teams rewind and can't find mine
They all left behind because my rhymes lack guidelines
Wings get pushed back from hairlines to asscracks
So check ASCAP, on Artifacts soundtracks
So act ill, I can peel a skill like fresh bills
Crack a rapper like a Phills I smack more ass than Benny Hill
But chill a minute, I'm all up in it infinite potential
Newark, Jew Jersey resedent