[Chorus x3: Prince Poetry]
(Bring it on!) You can set my mode to WHATEVER
Or simply pay the PENALTYYY for walking this endeavor
My observations on your orchid egos'll let you penetrate
(We'll DEVASTATE) have you fuckin fall when you fake!
BRING IT ON!
Even be gettin more graphic
Neo-Geo, thirty-two bit computer chip
Be slipped between my lips and then I'll spit!
Spit it out (OUT) spit it out (OUT) go ahead spit out (OUT)
That itty bitty style you upchuck
Betta believe I buttfuck MC's from the rear it appears ya stuck up!
It's my termi-NOlogy that strikes the MIND and rips this BEAT apart
You know the many styles I choose will bruise crews from the start
I flow awk-wardly that's awk-wardly I flow that's to the rhythm
Incisions are made into the brain and then I begin to give em
A lobotomy, follow me!
I'm shapin your br-ayi-yi-ya-in... li-li-li-li-like... pot-der-der-der-ery...
(ALL OVER THE TRACK!)
Gimme the P-H, gimme the A-R,
Gimme the O-A gimme the H-E, Pharoahe
Crazy poison tip arrows are hittin you from all directions
You cannot dodge or manage to dislodge them from the point at which they are connecting
I am se-se-selecting a ne-ne-ne-new style-style
For the p-pile-piles of MC's who try to get buck-buckwild
F-F-F-FUCK DAT! when I'm in a ren-ova-tive state of mind
I'm innovative, never been afraid of rockin the microphone
I'm prone to be eliminating
Cling when I sing a song of sixpence, if it makes sense/cents then sing along
Cling along to my nuts if you got guts then bring it on
(BRING IT, BITCH!)
[Chorus x3: w/ angry yells in background]
There is no equivalent one consider me the epitome of rhymes
Rhythm to techs execution is parallel to them with an exception of the organisms
My telepathy can't, be dismantled so stop sweatin me
Gettin me vexed, while outdated raps get trampled
FE-FI-FOE steps up elevations show
That I'm ahead of your time... behind a dope rhyme
Rippin shit up at prime time I'm Optimus Prime/time material
Imperial wizard, of vocabularic havoc I eat MC's like cereal!
That's soggy, milky skills like Mister Miyagi
When it's foggy I release globby spits of names of rappers in the lobby as a hobby
I'll... rip your nit-SHIT GET STICK QUICK, GET YOUR CREW - before I do
Something gory to your quite futile STYLES
Miniature raps get waxed, simonized
Into the fifth dimension of your centrifugal never typical stand attention
I'm, mystical rip shit til the power blows (BLOWS!)
Those chose to compete we delete em, observe defeat!
That's sendin down from above to GET CHA, HIT CHA, split cha ditch cha
Picture you, victorious
The story is, you're boring (BRING... IT... ON!)
Bring it on
BRING IT ON... WHATEVER!
WE'LL DEVASTATE, HAVE YOU FUCKIN FALL WHEN YOU'RE FAKE!
BRING IT ON!