Hand me a little bit of umm, orange pineapple juice  I'ma sip on it, check it out  I got a rhyme, you got a rhyme  But my rhyme is better than yours  (repeat 2X)  U-A-C, they get they P's and  No I.D., be gettin his P's and  The Late Show, they get they P's and  ProfessaNots, they get they P's and  Peep the maneuver, how bout the Heim-lich  I rhyme sick and you can get the duck, coon  I'm the shit, you're shit out of luck, tough  I'm the act to follow, housing kids like Ronald  Mac like Donald Goines, flows I change like coins  Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng, choyoyoyoyyyyyng  I draw a crowd like blood with the 'pint of' technique  and everybody there be like, "YEAH!"  Cause cain't near a nig dat'll say 'Whoomp, There It Is'  I'm like a mom on section 8, over-bearing kids  shit they be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka true  Youse a hamburger, I'ma Fudrucker  askin me to lettuce ketchup, knowin you can't cut the mustard  So where's the beef, jerky?  I'm as Worthy as James, not that good with names  but I do remember your face from someplace this is one taste  of Chicago, we got mo' many mo' many mo' many mo' flavors  Don't just come to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood takin niggaz  under  on the tundra, cause "they're plain, they're plain" (Fantasy Island)  I'm on a plateau that is fat so  It's just a fan-tasy, for the fans to see  how I land, I'm grand like a finale  I'm goin back to Cali (why?) cause Cali got bitches check it  Aiyyo Dart this is a sickness  Dee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da, ah-eh-da-da  Dee-da-da-da-DOO-doo, dee-da-da, dee-da-da  South Side, rock on and  The West Side, we gotta rock on and  Hey yo Chicago, we gotta rock on and  The East coast, you gotta rock on and  The West coast, you gotta rock on and  ah down South, you gotta rock on and  Check it... "Now you can go!"  Mister Pussy Emcee, just get on gone  Get on gone, you pussy MC!  Steppin to me, with them dirty feet you'll get defeated  like Kunta Kinte, I'm kin to, align crew  My great, great, grandpap done been through  so much it's in my hemoglobin to be a ill nigga  So I figure like a father... that I'ma Turn This Mutha Out  But Common you ain't hittin in New York  I don't know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall props  Some cats think I'm six feet I'm so deep  Some stunts be thinkin I'm six-fo', my shit be hittin like switches  Bitches, ask, why my, britches, sag  I ask the bitches, "Why your titties saggin?"  Put your nipple to the bottle I bust rhymes like breastses  I can get down, d-d-d-down like pessimist  Ring the Alarm, I got Charm like a neck-a-lace  Tell me true statues had to move they neck to this  Didn't you, didn't you... and it, and it, and it  and it don't stop, bust it  "Gotta crew ya better tell em" --> Keith Murray