I'm Chill-Master, Nell of a thousand MC's   But how are you gonna tell the real I bust from these fo' knees   'Cause he sees everyone with a deal with a record company   They go home, they write a rhyme, they think they ready to battle better      Some write forward, some write backward   I wait for them to get the cheeba-ganja then reverse yo   With a verse that's worse than the last one   Some say boo! he's the po he used to diss Jamaicans      And Hatians 'cause you thought I was American   Ay Pras, remember that song they sang, yeah   Go back to Jamaica, what's good is what's new   But now we move off with Uncle's with a trail-crate of cooler      I'm from the island, the island I'm from is the strong island   MC's must be right, when I syke from lack of freestylin'   Mind must be sharp until my holler girl, I get all in   Black stylin', ridin', Boof'll be trappin'      When they come to battle champ see the shoes flappin'   Huh, coolin' while I'm rappin'      Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try   Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try      Said if you write with pencil you must write with pen   If you have a rooster you must have a hen   Five plus five you know that equals to ten   Then spit the yellow man, check it to groove-to-groove site      One, two, I throw a flow to catch it   Three, four, back she know before the track miss   I fuck ya when style go, to wreck this static   But yo sister, grab the mic and do damage      Aiyyo I used to drive a hooptie, check me down swoopie   Rollin' with the Jones' but I different homozones   See life's got no value if I ain't got no statue   Hannibal heads, I be the kid from "Timbuktu"      One, two, zip me-me, check the mic I'm ready   Three, four, please the army, "Oh God", with Uzi's   So what, converse man, the chicken or the hoodie   Get the hoodie came first then mans' then would be Nancy      To kill the Jesse James rough, step back, check your steps   I'll love your theory like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man   You say I'm balanced but you're Silence of the Lambs   And when I call your name I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman      Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try   Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try      Well I'm on fire, fire, fire   So let me re-light your viacom   And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic, cool   And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic, cool      And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic, cool   And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic   All that movin' I call my nozzle you see I was an electronic   You listen to your lyrics in chime, your Panasonic      The ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the di-di-di-digital   Pras take the mic man, you know you're really critical      Stall MC's soft-put 'em up for-er-Death Row   Rhyme and cultural, style and never old   Slashed the priest-fool, ooh, you're filth-swolled   I say no to spliff but my friends still smoke [Incomprehensible]      Coolin' it, coolin' it, coolin' it, somebody chuck me-who the who'd you think?   Hold the mic, hold the mic, I shoot 'em   Down with my last one, last one, last one, last one and smoke   Smoke I got my bullet-proof and now to send my bozack      Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try   Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try      Rich rap come from the brothers in the neigborhood   Who used to rap on a Polaroid, here comes Father Joe   Let me clock the block as I pull fo'-five   Boof baf, I cut the block with gat-stops      I used to play hookie just to see how good an MC was   He said I bust a battle, aight, I still took a gun   No cheeba, cheeba just a Libra on a last ride   I waited so long that I thought I died and came back alive      So hear the spirits, many fear, Sir New Stosser   This the new thing under the sun, when I come, I come   Bam-bam, alakazam, he grabbed the mic up the block they ran   I came back with the bag 'cause that's my momma man      I'm just patrollin', move off in the block   But the spot that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' about   So don't get caught on the fast lane, the fast lane   A just remain yourself and be the same      'Cause many rapper-days, say nuttin' for nuttin'   So here's sut-um to take you from the am to the pm      'Cause a imitator could never be greater than the creator   Whose the originator, step up infiltrator, see you in the alligator   Back stabbin' traitor, tape recorder, duplicator, roughly rhymin' with   The head tranzlator and leave the forty to be naughty in the refrigerator      Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try   Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try      Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck punk, try   Boof baf, another sound of a guy   Boof baf, never boy, duck      Say gun-man, say tell me where you get your damn gun from   You musta get it from the foreign land   We want to shoot up the old a Babylon   Pay the man to rhyme onto it      Say gun-man, say tell me where you get your damn gun from   You musta get it from the foreign land   You want to kill your own brother man      [Foreign Content]