Try to have a seat, I either kill the beat Or the person So I try not to curse when, They comin at my head Cause Ill murder you with led, That’s the pencil to the pad Going mental, they’ve been waiting on my return like the Olympiad Flowing lyrical, but still slow as your grandad Cause sticks and stones will hurt your bones, And every word will hurt ya. I spit this greatness Ego all inside of me it’s spewing through my eyes hittin these Versace lenses. Pick up the pen sis, Pick you up in the Benz. This prize money is Why you don’t get second chances. Need my second check in advance miss. I’ve been doing this since MJ was still alive doing dances. then he died, & I was still rapping in classes. Damn isn’t it crazy how time passes? Right now my circumstance is Brutal, like Picasso with a bad doodle. If I tried to kill the beat, it would be brutal.