Yo i put clark to the tip of my pen,
I guess you say, im super men,
I mean man,
My existence is plural,
Im on highways plus murals,
Street doctorate,
Peep the bars that get, more lethal than Gibson,
Put these bibs on,
These gerber babies, im sick as rabies,
Fatal lethal injection,
Flows like water, prepare for the exiting,
Broke the recession,
When the bars shoot, they come with aggression,
Stare ya down like MJ, did Gary,
In the 96 series,
Dont **** the sonics, but i blaze to chronic,
Stress the red hairs, like when my ***** stares,
Make her **** my ****, til her nose flare,
Better yet make her do the super head dare,
Im a Kool G, when i rap, i break mics eat then i crap,
Over wack emcees, i make em itch, like dogs ticked by fleas,
***** please,
Im the master, cause disaster, watch me plaster,
The rhyme right, ya paper thin, just ask Miss Lyte iight,
She so fine, **** i wish she was mine, but back to this rhyme,
I got reasons, why the mic, shouldn't be breathin,
I choked it out, wildn out, aint no nicks, when i flex the cannon,
Bullet dartin' like Manning, so many aint understanding,
My madness that goes without landing,
A thought on ya plane, i clogged memories, like migraines,
Eighty bars aint ****,
I spin it cold legit, grizzly bear affair,
When freaky hoes, want it from the rear, i appear,
Like a theif in the night, get ya mind right,