My rhymes got so many symbols you’d think I’m a marching band
While your rhymes are so stiff it’s like you came with starch in hand
You only do shit halfway like a farmer’s tan
Come across my pathway bring South Bronx to Shan
Word to KRS, I blast masters, trackmasters
Poke and Tone your spine like back spasms, my backpack is
Old School like Oxford and Cambridge
Anyone who hands me a mic is a sponsor to damage
I’ve got a monster advantage like even if I walk slow
You run as fast as possible I still can catch up though
That means a hundred rhyme schemes jotted in a minute
Will be forgotten by one intense, definitive sentence
When I spit it, I’m spittin’ for a cause
Like Hippies did to soldiers comin’ home from Vietnam
When I call you out you’re America hit pause to reflect
You’re defenses grow so large there’s nothin’ left to protect

I talk shit
Walk shit
Hock shit
When I spit I come with more energy than sockets
That mock shit, you jock it, just stop it you lost it
You rockin’ them pop hits, I’m coppin’ that Pac shit
When I drop it, I talk shit
You sit with no comment
So plead the fifth and leave this bitch with bleeding lips you soft dick
My verbal composite is toxic and iconic like the bubonic plague’s in my phrase so ironic
You lost, bitch


It’s disgusting to watch that shit come out your mouth
Like two girls one cup, I can’t unwatch it now
Your rhymes are so simple I’m gon call you the masses
When I’m at this, your doomed like the man in the mask is
When I practice my classics, you’re tragically Damascus
I continue to conquer, you can’t win like Iraq bitch
Too soft like a mattress, the matter of fact is
Rhymes come infinite intrinsic patterns like mathematics
While yours fall more sporadic than a fat bitch’s diet
Compassion from a Republican, don’t try it
I control so many mikes Meyers asks movie advice
I told Tyson tat his face, and Moore who to criticize
I symbolize, the whole history of rhymes
Shakespeare turns in his grave ‘cause he can’t compare to mine
My iambic pentameter will damage ya like Jeru
Even my barber tells me Knowledge I can’t fade you
Not even Jesus can save you as I hock my curses
I stock my verses with comment bursts like rocket surges
Led by imperfect inertia, I might strike the wrong target
But even bystanders, expect to catch wreck when I’m on it
Doggonnit, stand back, this damn rap, will jam dats, I sandbag
Metaphorical punchlines and that’s that
Your jaws flap now pause that bitch back track before you step to the god with your dollar menu snack raps
Your impact lacks the apt facts snap back to reality and know that your actually crap jack
My boom bap and smooth rap will move hats just assume that before you do that
To yourself in public you new jack
I’m Nino Brown a true kingpin,
Fuck it, I’m an algebraic equation that can’t seem to sink in
To your logic enactor region
Battle the unknown factor what the fuck were you thinkin’