Lyrics:

Microphone check (what), check one
Microphone check (what), check two
Microphone check (what), check three
Microphone check (huh), check four
What chall niggas wanna do, how yall wanna do it?
Huh, check one
Kick this shit raw

Ghetto fabulous (5X)
That's the rapper (8X)

Turn your hands towards your ass and say bye bye
From the southside, southside, puff, ya ya ya
Nothin but the fiya ya
Eardrums snatchin champion cheap rhyme busters till the day I die
I say I lie
Bitch I'll be fuckin on your grave singin ay la ba
I throw em off, I'm two scoops for coo coo
I swoosh through your froot loops, poo poo in your fubu
Yall niggas remember what happened to that mosquito
Tweeter tweeter MC, the sweeter I be ja meaner
Stop your water turn off your gas cut off your lights
Move you out, cut your grass, watch your kids, fuck your wife
Like a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich I'm good
Mm hmm, like syrup on the biscut and orange juice ???
Come and take me by the hand and walk ya
I'm the thief in the night that slide your droors off ya
Watch where ya steppin I'm a verbal weapon
Bring more pain then when John Wayne came on old westerns
What is the actual fuckin meaning
I come in this bitch, without leavin this bitch that think we leaning
It's been like that since way back
I used to rock eight tracks before I rocked eight decks
Concepts goin stay fat, concerts goin stay packed
Ownership's goin stay black, nigga this is payback
I scrape ya somethin crawlin to establishment
Now I'm country club livin from the scribble scrabblin my talent
Proper proper droppin somethin decent
Yall niggas is as fucked up as Santa Clause for easter
I'm a keep comin as long as KLC keep drummin-acap