there's a science to this art
so i prod and i poke
if i'm ever gonna "get it",
then i can't lose hope
when the bank sends me statements
like some 'inside joke',
every month i'm getting letters saying:
"you're still broke"
but i know i'm getting better, when them shady ass folk
take a break from the hating just to tell me i'm dope
then they quote what i wrote -- quote what i spoke
now them lyrics and hymns..
spin off they lips like spokes on rims;
most folk-choke-when-the-bloke-go in....

((yeah........ moving on))

message to my smokers and my studio tokers;
walking in a cloud like a broken flame thrower;
when the beat change over, here's some shit you outta know, sir:
smoking all that dope don't make you doper.
i know for......
MOST of yall, that's game over.
i brought the pea coat, prepared for the cold shoulders;
as far as the eye can see from the chevy nova,
told ya girl i'm coming over but..she ain't really listen...

now it's dripping off her chin, man, trippin
whistle while she working so ref-like,
bobby that head to the beat real hood like
until i felt the teeth on the wood, like good night

and i'm fresh outta wet wipes;
get yo ass out at the red light.

place my sights on the future and set flight
to ensure beats and mics need metlife,
i'm the type..to come through with the lead pipe
to make sure the name on the check is spelled right
chilling with the villian over seas that rep right

((why'd you kill so many emcees?!))
..... it felt right.....
((oh!))
.........moving on....


big toolie on a moolie
spit unruly like a loogie
outta uzi, nigga, who he think he is
OH-- that's Atticus
OH -- that nigga spit like a tantrum
hundred foot hand gun, handsome,
hand some body my CD
now.....