[Chorus: Shaki]
Let me see the microphone, I've got something to say
I've been thinking these crazy thoughts all day

This is how I feel, and it really needs to be said
This is what goes on inside of my head


[The Reverend William Burk]
Yo, it's the brother with the rhymes better known as Burk
You can catch me in the studio puttin' in work

MCs fallin' off the map when I kick the earth
Get slick if you rollin' in the back of a hearse
Brothers gettin' played like Jesse's wife

Pay attention, I'mma teach y'all the facts of life
Protect ya neck before I give it a slice
And you can't drink Cris' and you can't wear ice

Beats made of fire, touch and get burned
Rhymes slick like an Al Sharpton perm
To get the club jumpin' you play this song

All night long, free drinks for women in thongs
My style's guaranteed to get you high like weed
Lyrics so sharp, make your eardrums bleed

If you down with me, then let's proceed
And if you're a dime piece, let me plant my seed


[Chorus]

[The Reverend William Burk]

Yo, you know the name is B-U-R-K
Drop the bomb like Timothy McVeigh
Child is destiny for me to hit Beyoncé

Tara caught me cheatin' with Sade
Never feel guilty, never feel filthy
Play around wit' me and get slapped silly

My sound's so underground that it's hellbound
Angels, devils and demons feel me
We're 'bout to rock on and make you work

Better respect this like you're in the church
A lot of rapper's bite, remember where you heard it first
Dirty verse, spit the nasty verse


If you wanna battle me, you better rehearse
I give you bad luck like a family curse

'Cause one against this is such a death wish
Like burnin', drownin' or torture, what's worse?
I'm in it to win it, dun, I gotta be the best

Like a fat chick in a eatin' contest
Milk the game until it ain't nuttin' left
I'm still in hip hop, gettin' charged with death

We rollin' through like wheelchairs do
Battle anybody in your whole damn crew
Make 'em all holla like DJ Clue

They run faster than Flow Joe when I'm comin' through

[Chorus]


[The Reverend William Burk]
Yo, let the hell out the gates with originality

Bustin' gun shots, turnin' cats to casualties
I wished the government would stop attackin' me
Can't walk down the streets without the cops harassin' me

These days you gotta pay the DJ
Just to get your song on a list that he play
But I still make cuts hot as heat waves

I get the club crunk, so forget what he say
If you wanna backstab towards the front
Throw your hands up 'cause I got what you want

Rap to me is like makin' a free throw
Easy, y'all come thicker than Miss Cleo
I'm trainin' for a war like a army dude

Burnin' weak rappers like a barbecue
I'm comin' with the hunger of a starvin' dude
So stoppin' this rap is impossible

What

[Chorus] x2