Brothers ain’t shit,
So don’t honk your horn, keep rolling.
No, I don’t wanna ride cause the shit might be stolen.
Anyway, I know your number:
You got a ‘Gas, Grass or Ass’ sticker on your bumper.
No-frill rappers: you will evaporate, disintegrate, deflate to your fate,
as the great will dominate straight to the state
Of reignin’, gainin’…So put Kane in
That category. Period. End of story.
A letter to you suckers,
Each and every one of you duck muthafuckas…
Your girl puckers her lips, so I stuck her.
This game is lame, the music comes second
So you can save that stupidness for all them artists you checkin.
Popularity don’t last long, I’m in it for classics,
Cause the other side of the biz is fake and it’s plastic.
Put a quarter in your ass, ‘cause ya played yourself.
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
I won’t say I’m the baddest, or portray that role,
But I’m in the top 2, and my father’s gettin’ old.
Friday the 13th…I’mma play Jason!
You want ass? The cash is first.
You got dead presidents, baby, I got a hearse in my purse.
I called every day to see how she was doin,
Every time that I called her, it seemed somethin was brewin.
I called her on my dime, picked up, and then I called again,
I said, ‘Yo, who was that?’
‘Oh, he’s just a friend.’
I get physical, mystical, very artistical…
Giving party people something funky to listen to.
Now, yo: Juice Crew’s the family, Slick Rick’s a friend of me
And Doug E. Fresh, Stet, KRS and Public Enemy.
Blahzay-blah, you know who you are:
The red, black and green, the sun, moon and star.
Knowledge of self is being taught here on after,
Peace in the name of I, Self, Lord and Master.
I come to teach and preach and reaching each
With the speech every leech I’ll impeach.
Drop science and build with math,
And the dumb, deaf and blind’ll feel the Wrath…of Kane.