Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress      Pain, stress, my brain can't even rest   It's hard to maintain the pressure on my chest   Excess frustration strikes   Blood rushes my head when I come across roads      With dead mics and wack promoted shows, it's hard   But with the presence of God, I'm true to the game   So I'm back black to take charge and recapture   The time, wish it could never be wack, I'm pure      I insert my lifeline into the track, the energy   In me is a poison with no unrevealed remedy   I'm spreading like leprosy throughout the record label   'Cause mines put me and Monch's career in jeopardy      Can you come? See me in the ghetto where it's dark   Bullets are real, lost peeps lurks in the heart   Lord knows it hurts, we kick the Hertz to the curb   Execute first things first and put blunted minds to work      My herd's tight and my fans supports   So I'm aight, for the time being seeing peace   But taking no shorts   (No shorts)      Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress      Rarrrrrgh, you will now consider me the apocalyptic one   After this rhyme, henceforth there is none   No more will exist when I emerge   From the mist in whence I was born into scorned      Most of you can't even comprehend what I am saying   To you even in my human form the message I'm relaying   Why do you choose to mimic these wack MC's?   Why do you choose to listen to R&B?      Why must you believe somethin' is fat   Just because it's played on the radio 20 times per day?   My perception of poetical injection is ejaculation   The Immaculate Conception      The hall walker who stalks bodies in Central Park   Soon emergency services'll outline that body in chalk   Then I begin to walk away and spit   Then when I walk away, I talk shit      Huh, a driver sprayed my face with mace   She didn't know that I enjoyed the taste of radioactive waste   When I'm in the backseat of your mid-town taxi   Don't even ask me for the cash G      The four cabs before didn't pick me up   Now ask yourself who the fuck's gonna stick me up      Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress   Crush, kill, destroy, stress