[Intro: Wordsworth]
Yo, yo. Check it out. For Eddie Ill and D.L. Yo, Words from Punch & Words. Check it out, yo. I’m gonna do it like this. Yo
[Verse 1: Wordsworth]
Shout out to my moms and to my fam
It’s like it’s my time when I just start to jam
I’m glad the mic’s on the stand. Or, in other words
If I was on the stage, to have it in my hand. Now you’ll be a fan
As I become one. Yo, I’m rhyming until the Sun done
But, yo, check it out. This is for my income
I’ve been there. I know I got rhymes. I got
Lyrical rhymes like this. More and then some
Yo, while you do, we live the culture. It’s all over
The rabbit’s foots, clovers, and crossed fingers and salt over shoulders
Stood the heat and turned the kitchen colder. There’s twenty-bar
Addiction quotas. You’ll feel out of place like an eviction notice
Gimme, see-it contracts. The politics of rap
I’m always approached by the wack ‘cause opposites attract
So go all-out despite your skill, indulge
Your willpower. But just leave some power to write your will
I’m dead-serious. I’ll take John Doe. See me and change
The combo from rap to The Giants playing The Broncos
Readers digest it through procedures suggested
That ain’t new. It’s second-hand like being ambidextrous
Demeanor dispose of my foes in arenas
With their bodies wrapped in plastic like my clothes from the cleaners
So much that traffic jams at crossroads
With lost souls. Words is hitting like Morse Code
Turn your top concerning submissions in addition. Subtract you
From the division. I’ll hold my own like when I’m p*ssing
And rappers in cyphers, stop fronting. I wouldn’t see
Half y’all rhyme if I ain’t come back like I forgot something
What up? What you want to do? We do it like that
Freestyle like that when I rhyme like that
Yo, a lot of cats, they rhyme and they try to have style
But they wack and they just stuck in denial
Yo, a lot of cats want to rhyme, they swear they have style
But, yo, they just stuck in denial
[Verse 2: L-Fudge]
Check it. They just stuck in denial, but I’ll milk you like a cow
You see, you’re like unneeded weed and I get you plowed
You see, I rhyme from then to now, from now to then
I transcend. I’m inside a ghost’s body, spreading bucks
Like shottie. Courtesy of Rakim. I had to take that metaphor
But, back in the days, I used to do me some better whores. But now
I’m all broke, you see, ‘cause Rawkus is taking all of my dough
So now I’ll have to get props just like [?]
To get enough dough. You see I’m stuttering, but these words that I’m uttering
Makes everybody want to back up and start smothering
The whole stelo. I got this rap game sewn up like [?]
Remain we low. He tried to diss me and I see hoes
That try to see me. You see, you can’t see me as if you were Stevie
Wonder. But, you see, I’ll eat you up like Wonder Bread
Lyrically, you’ll be dead. You see, I’ll flow straight off of the head
I’m a FED: Fully Equipped Dominican. [?] like some cinnamon
Trembling. Heck, it’s 12 o’clock and I’m a Grem-e-lin
Getting in your skin like melanin, hemming ‘em as if I was a tailor
You see, in this rap city, I’ll be the mayor. I got flavor
As if it was, uh, 31 Baskin Robbins
I’ll have a b*tch slobbing my balls ‘cause it’s like that
You see, I’m quicker to the draw than McGraw. You see
I said it all and I said it now. You see, everybody want to diss me
Mentality’s too shifty. You see, I’m better off being busy
Trying to make my music. I bruise kids and leave ‘em with bruises
All over their bodies. That’s how it is. Your b*tch suck my di*k sloppy
Had her calling me papi because I’m from Española
And, try to diss me, and I’ll have you sailing in your yola
A yola—that’s “a boat” in Spanish. Lyrical bandit
My freestyles is similar to the material called granite
You misunderstood it, meaning that ya misunderstand it
But, you see, I’m not bionic. I’m [?] Hispanic
I’m his panic, I’m your panic. You can’t handle me
You better switch up your strategy if you’re gonna battle me
Because everybody be like, “God damn.” My cellulite saddle be
I mean “cattle be.” Let me correct myself, but, yo, that’s my strategy
Handling me is very hard as if I was [?]
You see, I work in construction. You don’t know what it is, so it really doesn’t
Amount to nothing, but I’ll relieve your suffering like Bufferins
Everybody said that, but, still, I’ll win it as if it was head-cracked
In Ceelo. That’s how it is. Reside in the B-Low
Uptown Manhattan. Origin is Latin. Laughing at
Those who claim that they surpassing. My motherf*cking raps is
Longer than the neck on a giraffe and steadily capping
Nosy emcees as if I was a cop. You see, even my own name is
Known as if I was Sir Lancelot. I bang a lot
You see, ‘cause I’m from the medievals. I used to do
Credit card schemes and boost me mad close from Sméagols
You see, I fly through lyrics like a seagull and you can’t see me
Lyrically, you can’t boo me as if you was The Fugees
And you get props, but you’re not The Fugees and I’m L-Fudge
And nobody can quite catch wreck just like L does
I asked you, “Have you felt Fudge?” You’ll be like, “Hell yeah”
But, you see, I got to erupt the whole atmosphere
And then make y’all ask me permission to breathe some of my air
You see, I’m too nice with life. I reveal your underwears
I’ll leave you on the floor, I’ll reveal your drawers
And your b*tches’ bras and I get it on and I give ‘em the balls
I put in inside of a mouth—my testicles. You see, I was sent here
By extraterrestrials. Your mentality’s a vegetable
You see, you can’t f*ck with Fudge. You see, I’m just
Steadily talking off of top. Ayyo, I’m barking
As if I was a dog. But, yo, I’ll play leapfrog
And, yeah, I’m motherf*cker that, that, that, that, that
Ayyo, Eddie Ill & D.L. throw wax at n*ggas
And penetrate through your Pelle Pelle. I make more money
Than weed sales. But let me give to my man Mike Zoot
[?]
[Verse 3: Mike Zoot]
And, me, yo
The light-skinned, chunky kind and I ain’t looking
Young youth out, the 9 out, sees Flatbush, Brooklyn
[?] j*rk, chickenhead well-seasoned
Never shook. Well-done upon my bedspread, cooking
I hope this time, the young girl’s not hooking
But that’s a whole ‘nother book and chapter—we’ll be back to
That sh*t another time. For now, it’s onto to rappers or
Emcees E-T-C-period. I feel I have ta
Address the situation we be facing. I’m p*ssed off
Pacing outside the hip hop nation, impatient
In anticipation of replacement, file
My application—help wanted in the East location
Now I’m employee of the month, smoking blunts. Guesswhyld
Is the label that fronts my backing, submit tracks in
Clumps. Hammer out all lumps and make it bump
To climb out a series of financial slumps to get dollars
But we’re beast marks on dog collars in the events that follow
Yo, you see me here today but I won’t see you there tomorrow
On some new sh*t, son, Mike-Zoot-done-paid-his-dues sh*t
Uh huh
[Interlude 1: Hazadous]
One, two, aight?
Hazadous, I.G. Off and Hazadous
[Verse 4: Hazadous]
I’ll catch wreck from the inner cities to the fawns. I’ll tuck
Mics and hit emcees with more problems than their baby moms
Natural-born killer strike with the force of a gorilla
You couldn’t see me on the mic if you was my reflection in the mirror
On point like a hatchet. I’ll keep it moving like traffic
My bio got more wild life than National Geographic
I fell in love with hip hop. I think she bust my lung. I was
Putting hickies on my snares, finger-popping my bass drums
Hip hop ‘til I die with my partner from Queens. You probably
Think it’s a dream the way I get my flow on like a stream
I’m not Dutch but I’m the Master. I’m the next hip hop chapter
They playing the part like a actor. I go the distance like NASA
I had fun, n*ggas, gets none practice. It’s dope and now I’m done
Stay out my face or catch a bad one like Bill, son
Understand? In the ’98, we don’t play no games
Strictly with the .45 blowing you out the frame
You know my saying: I’m leaving n*ggas in flames
Rhymes that sound insane. Yo