Yo

This girl called me the other day and said I'm back in style, yo

Hi Pos, heard your shit, back in style, baby

Ha

You need to stop

I declare that only live **** rap this year

Jam's off the meter, yo, this shit is hot

There's always one

One

Wonder why

Amateurs get hung with they own gold chains

There it is

I declare that only live **** rap this year

The average MC sells terror, we nail terror up against the wall for target practice

Not one of your top five MCs, but I see clearly with ease, you lack this

Coast to coast, we pop up on your scene like toast, playin' host to your regiment

Who rally to boast, but now boast no more, they got floored by the sight of my ledger print

I came specifically to fracture your ability to grandstand anywhere next to me

This is the year when the true better man keeps the cheddar and writes to his destiny (Word)

Timeless episodes of talent got me nominated by the ones who hated me on spittin' tighter

Salute these super MCs for bein' clever and never usin' weed as a ghostwriter

I declare that only live **** rap this year (Come on)

Jam's off the meter, yo, this shit is hot

Run a rapper through a maze like an experiment

Yeah, word up

I declare that only live **** rap this year

Contrary to popular truth, these youth are runnin' scared, so in one stare, they gettin' strapped

Cash rules nothin' from below the belt, the dick choose to melt, askin' where them dollars at (Where them dollars at?)

Must've been bitten by a rabbit actin' silly like that, your pop culture need a diaper change

I'm snatchin' the mic like I'm lootin' with a whole lot of shootin' while you're keepin' out of sniper range

Your aim's to please, my aim's to freeze you dead center in your tracks with your hands high

Ain't no tricks, we set it to fire like Hendrix, all the hard rocks are liquefied

All over the scene, makin' it messy, so we make a clean getaway to a better day

Can't say the same for them cats who left the game 'cause they couldn't claim the better pay

This ain't no masquerade, so the mass parade of people need to stop frontin' (Stop frontin')

There's truly a few makin' them hits, while us, we got our mitts closed 'cause you on the field buntin'

Make it to third base, but never reach home, the word is, your whereabouts is unknown

While we're that point of view that you never really knew with the stitch to keep the cut sewn (De La)

I declare that only live **** rap this year

Jam's off the meter, yo, this shit is hot

Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock, rock