(Is that a turntable? Well get on it, it`s your turn)
Who gets laid, the chicken or the egg?
How about the MC that has just been led
To a renegade teacher, preacher then he got stomped
Cause I`m a feature straight from the Bronx
Productions, better known as Boogie Down
If I was a king right now I`d get crowned
The Nice is a teacher, not a prince or a rap lord
I even write my rhymes on a blackboard
To get specific, and probably make you understand
What makes the 808 plan
It`s simple, I`m a round it off like this
That`s how many stupid MC`s I`ve dissed
But if the commence to try me I won`t buy it
I`ll look them up and down and I`ll say Don`t even try it
Cause I can go on and on without breathing
The TR, another form of BDP-eating
MC`s like Chunky, moving real bluntly
Shaking and baking MC`s like a junky
Fiending, hitting MC`s like they was cocaine
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no name
I`ll spin you like a quarter, drink you like water
Hit below the belt with things you never thought of
I lay down the law that I am a slaughter
I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta
Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat
In water, now watch you soak
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottom
It`s heavy like an anchor, it`s no problem
For me to just bake you, eat you like a cookie
I am a profressional, boy, you`re just a rookie
I`m here to sing a song, but some are not able
Compared to me you`re just crumbs on the table
In my prime, more vocal than I`ve ever been
I`m not an amateur, sort of like a veteran
Split from the bums, arriving from a long trip
Now I`m back to just cold rip
MC`s like confetti, eat `em like spaghetti
I chill for a year and yet I`m still ready
To house MC`s, sink `em like a boat will
I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal
So now you know the 808 is showing
I do damage in just one moment
Here`s a little message to those who want to hang out
Just remember that I give pain out
The TR-808 relates to a terrorizer
Never hiding, clever always memorizing
Poetry, history, math, or even paragraphs
I`m not into b-boying, just hoeing
Showing, blowing MC`s like the wind does
I might lay you, sort of like a hen does
Cause your rhymes are weak and unstable
Compared to me you`re just crumbs on the table
You must think, before you even get soup
I`ll put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute
Like a street whore, make you want more and more
Move you to the side, up and down like a seesaw
Pulling out a gun is uncalled for
But I`m with it, so go for yours
You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery
I pack more volts than a Duracell battery
Charging MC`s, smooth like the breeze
Scott made me funky, yo, that was one theme
Or topic, showing I be rocking
Every little city I play I leave a heat wave
Burning up the industry, never try to get with me
I`m the type of person that never needs rehearsing
Just a little sex, a six pack of Beck`s
And my room to move about, and a Guiness Stout
To make me feel able, chilling, and stable
Sometimes I`m on the mic, sometimes I`m on the turntable
I`m superb, sort of like herb
A man of my word and I`ve never been served!
