spit it in intervals, now, listen to the principles
cause you're trying to kill something that isn't physical
change your flow, cause I know you ain't a "pro"
every breath I spit worth its weight in gold--now pay the toll to Charon
scripts are reading like a golden Koran, see
i mold them in calm and they blow till your gone
heres a cross sucker, cause you just might need this
the plight, mic'd fever, call for christ, JESUS!
the aesthetic won't take credit, maimed in your flesh
and if fate set it, then I'm the angel of death
the date that I was live, nineteen-eighty-five
and i guess from henceforth, i've been raising the benchmark
i try to shut up as far as modesty goes (hah)
but i still mark the height to which the waters once rose
look at you fiends, you're begging for a track
but i kidnapped rap and you'll never get it back!

(chorus)
To all of you who think rap is so trite
it's a direction reflection of that of your life
consider the track precocious
cos you can't put it in words like the Mr. Mackadocious

i bring dope to the land when coping with man
roping your fans, so here's your hope in my hand
i open it, gloat and start blowing the sand
apologize to the wish but most of ya...bland
DAWG! get away 'fore i spit a phrase
i'm a threat to musicians that are considered safe
and they know it, so they don't visit the page
but I'm scripting some ways to get their brain in a trap
force the music industry's fortress frame to collapse
that and--most the game, laughing with hump and quan
as we toast to the flames
I shine with desire, the divine song rhymer
my minds on fire
i bet you can do it, go ahead...try to conspire
fuck it...you're never gonna catch up
guess its time to retire...

(chorus)
To all of you who think rap is so trite
it's a direction reflection of that of your life
consider the track precocious
cos you can't put it in words like the Mr. Mackadocious