Confirmation of your worse fears   Ever since his first years had a thirst for beers   Back from the future, it'll make you more sober-er   And brought back a long list of fakers who crossed over   I'm like, fuck it, bubble-baller   Catch ‘em up at Bob's show, stall him with a troubled caller   Bastard, who could make G's faster   Than a newly re-mastered while being truly plastered   There's four sides to every story   If these walls could talk, they'd probably still ignore me   Contemplate war over a cup of warm coffee   It's really getting gory, tell your problem to Maury   Don't bore V with the "glory, hallelu-ey"   Crews be like, foo-ey he's just a buncha hoo-ey   I knew he had new G, who he? Viktor Vaughn   He had a new sicker song, I think he call it "Lickupon"      Umm but uh, he study rhymes and patter-ins   Climb so steep sometimes the beat don't be mattering   Sounded like a half-dead from [???Scurvy band rock???]   A programmed, computer bio-grafted Herbie Hancock   Maybe next life he'll try harder   Died a martyr at the hands of the fire-starter   More scripts ripped available for via barter   Transport a stack to the lab via charter   On the microphone he came to daze and amaze ya'   What a guy, practice banging flies with razors   And watch out for the robot, he got eyes with lasers   Tell ‘em when they come with more topics besides blazers   Enough with the guns already, they're all toys and lames   The joy's in the aim, he asked him, how's ya' poison game?   Do you bust your crossbow? Also, more so   Accurate body blows to torso, thought so   These flows you won't find in no "how-to"   If the blacksmith doubt you, he smack the shit out you   Make nothing gone, let nothing twitch   Just don't be near the mic when the on-button switch   V bring the beef like a trucker to Fuddrucker   Delivery to all y'all motherfuckers and bloodsucker   Coping more pleas than when a rap nigga bicker on   And that's my word is bond, I think he call it "Lickupon"      Umm, he wrote this one with a fever sick in bed   With his dickhead inside a chickenhead   No, a dead chicken's head, he said it help his nausea   If he lost ya', wait ‘til he tell you about the flying saucer   Dag, the kickback'll leave your wig ragged   For a big bag of good grizzle and some Zig-Zag   Survival, keep a rival in denial   And bust what he got just for coming out his pie-hole   Die calmer than a suicide-bomber   V just the type to do a hoo-ride with momma   Said to James Bond, my name is Viktor, Viktor Vaughn   Told the chick the quickest way to get on, lickupon