Lyrics:

One two, I'm bout to set this up, Like this
Hip hoppers check it
Another MC lose his life tonight Lord
I beg that you prayin' to Jesus Christ
Why?
Oh Lord, Father don't let him bury me, whoa
I own MC's like mephistophales bringin' Swords of Damocles
Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
Abstract rap simple with a street format
Gaze into the sky and measure planets by paralax
Check out the retrograde motion killed the notion
Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation
I feel like Rockwell, somebody's watching me
I got no privacy whether on land or at sea
And for your bitin' zealots, your raps are cacophonic
If a prick predict but deep inside you wish you had a pop hit
It hurts don't it, a refugee come to your turf
To take over the earth...

(Lauryn)
See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes
That can only get down with my crew
And if you try to take lines and buy grines
We'll show how the refugees do

Behold it's my own manifold on your rhymes
Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time
It's against the law of physics
So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics rap rejects
My tape deck ejects projectile
Whether Jew or Gentile I rentile percentile
Many styles more powerful than gamma rays
My grandma pays like Carlos Santana plays
Black Magic Woman
So while you fumin' I'm consumin' mango juice under Polaris
You just embarrassed 'cause it's your last tango in Paris
And even after all my logic and my theory
I add a 'muthafucker' so you ignorant niggas hear me
And remember take notes, 'cause I SOE MY RAP OATS
For all you bitin' zealots, here's a quote

Aye another MC lose his life tonight, oh
I beg that you prayin' to Jesus Christ. Why?
Oh Lord, Father don't let him bury we, aye

You can try but you can't divide the tribe
These cats can't rap mister author I feel no vibe
The magazine said THE GIRL shoulda went solo
The guy should stop rappin', vanish LIKE MENUDO
Took it to the heart but every actor plays his part
As long as someone was listenin' I knew it was a start
For me to get a chance grab my pen and revamp
Do a Cameo while everyone do the dance (do the dance)
Quit now 'cause you're runnin' out of luck-a
Playin' mister big I'm gonna get you sucka
While you munchin' at your luncheon I'll be plannin'
Your assassination and hit you like The Dutchman

I compress sound sets my rap DBX
Then drop vocals on my four five six amtax
Bring terror to the shop of horrors
As she cry 'mi amor!' the Phantom dies in the opera
And to the youngin's who carry gadgets
And kill six days a week and rest on the Sabbath
(Hold up hold up) violence ain't necessary
Unless you provoke me then get buried like the great Mussolini
And for you bitin' zealots, your rap stars are relics
No matter who you damage, you still a false prophet