(Is that a turntable? Well get on it, it 's your turn)
Who gets laid, the chicken or the egg?
How about the MC that has just been led
To a renegade teacher, preacher then he got stomped
Cause I 'm a feature straight from the Bronx
Productions, better known as Boogie Down
If I was a king right now I 'd get crowned
The Nice is a teacher, not a prince or a rap lord
I even write my rhymes on a blackboard
To get specific, and probably make you understand
What makes the 808 plan
It 's simple, I 'm a round it off like this
That 's how many stupid MC 's I 've dissed
But if the commence to try me I won 't buy it
I 'll look them up and down and I 'll say "Don 't even try it"
Cause I can go on and on without breathing
The TR, another form of BDP-eating
MC 's like Chunky, moving real bluntly
Shaking and baking MC 's like a junky
Fiending, hitting MC 's like they was cocaine
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no name
I 'll spin you like a quarter, drink you like water
Hit below the belt with things you never thought of
I lay down the law that I am a slaughter
I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta
Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat
In water, now watch you soak
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottom
It 's heavy like an anchor, it 's no problem
For me to just bake you, eat you like a cookie
I am a profressional, boy, you 're just a rookie
I 'm here to sing a song, but some are not able
Compared to me you 're just crumbs on the table
In my prime, more vocal than I 've ever been
I 'm not an amateur, sort of like a veteran
Split from the bums, arriving from a long trip
Now I 'm back to just cold rip
MC 's like confetti, eat 'em like spaghetti
I chill for a year and yet I 'm still ready
To house MC 's, sink 'em like a boat will
I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal
So now you know the 808 is showing
I do damage in just one moment
Here 's a little message to those who want to hang out
Just remember that I give pain out
The TR-808 relates to a terrorizer
Never hiding, clever always memorizing
Poetry, history, math, or even paragraphs
I 'm not into b-boying, just hoeing
Showing, blowing MC 's like the wind does
I might lay you, sort of like a hen does
Cause your rhymes are weak and unstable
Compared to me you 're just crumbs on the table
You must think, before you even get soup
I 'll put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute
Like a street whore, make you want more and more
Move you to the side, up and down like a seesaw
Pulling out a gun is uncalled for
But I 'm with it, so go for yours
You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery
I pack more volts than a Duracell battery
Charging MC 's, smooth like the breeze
Scott made me funky, yo, that was one theme
Or topic, showing I be rocking
Every little city I play I leave a heat wave
Burning up the industry, never try to get with me
I 'm the type of person that never needs rehearsing
Just a little sex, a six pack of Beck 's
And my room to move about, and a Guiness Stout
To make me feel able, chilling, and stable
Sometimes I 'm on the mic, sometimes I 'm on the turntable
I 'm superb, sort of like herb
A man of my word and I 've never been served!
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