Living off borrowed time the clock ticks faster
That’ll be the hour they knock the sick blaster
Dick Dastardly and Mutley with sick laughter
A gunfight an’ they come to cut the mix-master
I.C.E. cold
Nice to be old
Y2G stee twice to three fold
He sold scrolls lo and behold
Know who’s the illest ever like the greatest story told
Keep your glory, gold and glitter
For half, half of his niggers would take 'm out the picture
The other half is rich and it don’t mean shit'a
Villain–a mixture between both with a twist of liquor
Chase it with more beer
Tasted like truth or dare
When he get the mic its like the place get like “aaw yeah”
It's like they know what’s ‘bout to happen
Just keep your eye out like “aye aye captain”
Is he still a fly guy clappin’ if nobody aint hearin’
And can they testify from in the spirit
And livin’ the true gods
Givin’ y’all nothing but the lick like two broads
Got more lyrics than the church’s got ooh-lord's
And he hold the mic and get your attention like two swords
Either that or either one with two blades on it
Hey you! Don’t touch the mic like there’s AIDS on it
Yo, it’s like the end to the means
Fuck 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 an accordian

When he had the mic you don’t go next
Leavin’ pussycats like why hoes need Kotex
Exercise index won’t need Boflex and wont take
The one with no skinny legs like Joe Tex