Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a rapper that's wack   as a matter of fact, I smack a back of the style, jackets are now   mellow minced, defeatin the mental   And become Gentle as Ben, but then they stibble and dribble   and bend like a pencil   The only utensil I got, is brain power   And you know it's essential I rock, I rain showers   sleet snow and raise hella eyebrows with my styles   You're wondering how wild   When what where, made ladies so horny   they can't even be showin they butt bare   Look up there, beside the birds the planets the hawk   the rappers who talk the mo' shit   I'm makin em walk the plank they stank I'm takin they rank   they tossed tiddlewinks I'm playin em like that game   I'm gunnin and rackin and packin em up   and I'm runnin this here rap thang   Main, you wanna go to war, I'll take you   I physically break you, when I break through   I'm makin you fake crew, you made a mistake fool   I hate you MC's, I'll grate you like cheese   I may choose to squeeze, my pencil   And write out a couple of rhymes      Whooooaaaa, whooa my goodness!!!   Are we slaughterin, is this just slaughter MC night?   Or somethin man, what is this?   Is this all the aggression you ever had?      How many MC's must get ripped, before By says don't flip with the Gift   You know? That's what I'm talkin bout   How many MC's must get dismissed   Before somebody says, don't trip with the Gift   *laughter*   You know, it's all good   KP and SloganMasters in the house, the Cheezit Terrorist   And we chillin at 90.3 we got thirteen minutes left   And then we got Brenda Short, and her records