Livin' off borrowed time, the
That'd be the hour they knock
the slick blaster
Dick Dastardly and Muttley with
sick laughter
A gun fight and they come to cut
the mixmaster
I-C-E cold, nice to be old
Y2G steed twice to threefold
He sold scrolls, lo and behold
Know who's the illest ever like
the greatest story told
Keep your glory, gold and glitter
For have half of his niggaz'll
take him out the picture
The other half is rich and don't
mean shit-ta
Villain a mixture between both
with a twist of liquor
Chase it with more beer, taste
it like truth or dare
When he have the mic it's like
the place get like: 'Ah yeah!'
It's like they know what's 'bout
to happen
Just keep ya eye out, like 'aye,
aye captain'
Is he still a fly guy clappin'
if nobody ain't hear it
And can they testify from inner
spirit
In living, the true gods
Givin' y'all nothing but the
lick like two broads
Got more lyrics than the church
got 'Ooh Lords'
And he hold the mic and your
attention like two swords
Or even one with two blades on it
Hey you, don't touch the mic
like it's AIDS on it
It's like the end to the means
Fucked type of message that
sends to the fiends
That's why he brings his own
needles
And get more cheese than
Doritos, Cheetos or Fritos
Slip like Freudian
Your first and last step to
playin' yourself like accordion
When he at the mic you don't go
next
Leaving pussy cats like wild
hoes need Kotex
Exercise index won't need Bowflex
And won't take the one with no
skinny legs like Joe Tex