You a dead man walking, **** it, I rob zombie
Promptly, I want the head of the posse

Try and stop me, develop hands of rocky
Knocking ****** 3 times my size out, stocky.

Stick and move, run him out of his shoes
I’m that kind of a dude, caught in the wrong mood you lose

I’m the champ, meaning I’m ahead of the camp
Ready to rant, ready the hands, ready to dance

Like landing on the boardwalk after a chance
Metaphors coming off, from the top of a lance

That’ll ruin your plans, nice enough to do it over again.
Program, don’t do nothing but win.

Hit the lane with a hell of a spin, knock them down in a bundle of ten
I been trained not to fumble the skin

Go the whole nine yards and a couple of inches