Here come the jams, yo punks, guard your domes   It's the man with the mad new styles and funky poems   So strike one, strike two, strike three, you're out   Of luck, jack, fuck that, grab your nuts and shout   (ain't you the masta? ) yep, I've always been   And then, I'm a stab a fucking critic with his pen   So write that, put that in your magazine and stick it   I'm wicked, just like a witch when I kick it   So break out your charts and scales and try to rate me   Give me a one, son, yep I hope you hate me   Cause I'm a keep on bringing it, I'm swinging it   Sharp like glass til your punk ass is swinging it   Riff-raff, your whole damn staff I have to cut up   I drop bombs, I'm fatter than your moms, so what up?    I come from the planet of raps on, oh yeah   Beam me up steady, there's no skills down here   So there, you little punk sitting in your chair   Soon you're gonna know the score kids, I swear      (ain't you the masta? ) yep, I'm the masta (repeat 4x)      I hits you hard kids, you're barred from the mic and   Rhymes kick like pele, rough like a dyke and   Praise me, masta, off beat, the healer   Rap style's deisel like an 18-wheeler   So get that weak style out of my path   I'm turbo, I drop lines long like nostran ave.   So danger, I'm burning from monday to sunday   I'm hot like some niggas 10 deep in a hyndai   So make way, I drop mad heavy like the fridge   I'm sacking, you're wack and you're over like the bridge   This little rabbit tried to diss me, but fuck it   I got duckets, one day that rabbit kicks the bucket   You know (I know) you know (I know)   You know, you know, well yo follow where I go   Jane, stop this crazy thing if I sing   Some love shit and dress mad fly, I'd be the king   And be seen on the covers of like 27 books   But I'm too proud to beg, so suck this, you crooks   You're only as good as your last jam, it's true   Your shit's new, everybody wants an interview   But then, oh how quick they forget   With no hit, they like "who's that? " they full of shit   And straight up, my patience is starting to wear short   I'm gonna land blows like your head was an airport   Say cheese you theif, let me see your teeth   Cause I'm ultra-magnetic, magnetic like kool keith   So abra, cadabra, presto and change-o   The off-beat, on-beat style is kinda strange yo   It dops here, it drops there, it's off then it's on   To the breaka, to the breaka, to the breaka of umm dawn   Here I come with bones by the sack for   Spraypaint, I tage my f-ing name on your back, punk      (ain't you the masta? ) yep, I'm the masta (repeat 4x)