1st Verse:
Listen up; this the way I reign.
Fists is up and I came to play.

I made the way and shame the lames.
Aim to slain peasant ^!$$%s and I lay with dames.
I got some people watchin' and they know it's best to keep their distance.

I come at 'em like the Kraken with all my wrath and I know they gonna need resistance.
Somethin' 'bout the way I spit these bars.
Nothin' like a fake ^!$$% with weak a cause.

You ^!$$%s in the back actin' like !@$!s.
Knu Skool in the front with all the stars we brought.
Swear I'm godly; say it proudly.

You could never count the number of dumb$#&@s who doubt me.
Pissed like Lyssa; feed you my militia.
Take you out the picture; bet a real ^!$$% wouldn't miss ya.

Flow monstrous like a Gorgon; Tell Medusa that I'm comin'.
Bet she wetter than Poseidon when I get that #~!!@###min'.
Got an army like the Titans and we strong as the Olympians.

Knu Skool Entertainment will cast locals to oblivion.
We're the Prime Meridian 'cause we cut right down the middle.
Can't swallow that like a pill though; more like swallowin' a missile.

I bet I do it simple, but you ^!$$%s all seem crippled,
with these lyrics that I scribble so I'll just go $#&@ a nympho.
(Ugh)


2nd Verse:
You oughtta admit that I do this %#@!; word to Sean and Jeezy.

Believe me when I say it's easy just to get locals to see me.
They see me on they newsfeed and they don't even listen,
because on these lame ^!$$%s is exactly who I'm pissin', on.

Which is wrong, 'cause momma used to say be nice to my peers,
but I can't help it if y'all lookin' like some queers.
Messin' up my ears with the %#@!ty songs y'all supposedly goin' hard on.

So I just go on,
and poke fun at your blunders 'cause we don't see competition.
Knu Skool and affiliates -such a perfect composition,

but y'all (*##$in' and I pitch in so I get the plot to thicken,
while y'all !@#( is just sittin', my lyrical ^&@#$ stiffens.
Never knew I'd be like Perseus; got head from Medusa,

and like Zeus did Danae, I made that #~!!@ looser.
I know I got the streets listenin'; they don't even acknowledge,
the lyrical martyr spittin' harder; they harbor a starter and don't pay me homage


3rd Verse:
$#&@ you still listenin' for?

You don't even know the myths.
Don't know the stories behind the flows I spit or know any of my bros I'm rollin' with.
I'm known to get, into war-like zone; 'least that's what my ^!$$%s call it.

I call it wreckin' mutha$#&@as like the Battle of Gods; Fif's here to demolish.
These snap!@$), whack rap ^!$$%s who I'm here to abolish.
In fact, that last task is exactly what I'm gonna admonish.

These snobbish and waspish mutha$#&@as who I'm gon' tarnish,
they so damn nauseous; lack logics when I rap phonics, astonish,
all 'em mua$#&@as who don't know real lyrics when they hit 'em,

and, like #~!!@, when majors see me, be damn sure Im'a kill 'em,
either with these thick bars and spit hard;
way better than the lames who get cars,

and get broads and get large, from whack mua$#&@in' lines that %#@! hard,
'cause it's all crap in your favorite rapper's tracklist.
My lyrics will %#@! on the album and have you mad pissed.

Hits you like a back fist; don't try to attack this.
Get cranky; I'll pop you weasels, and put you where Jack is.