[Defari]

I got the funky feel like B Real

I put "all in your head up" [B Real] wit the pure raw skill

Franklins are my favorite bills

No hands my favorite type of windmills

Only now and then do I drink champagne

Like I said in Big Up I strictly fucks wit Covasea

You glamorous rappers are too sweet

Wit your rececycled beats and your styles that put me to sleep

I'd rather listen to some Brant Green

Authentic, not like you, got real meaning

I'm like the low-ridas, I like the oldies

You know songs, like Agony and Ecstacy by Smokey

You's a phony, I heard your single

Corny, like a thirty-second jingle

Here comes the master of paragraphs on phonographs

Every letter, etched and sketched like an ancient tag

You know my heiroglyph, I got a higher gift

You's a passenger tryin but never be a pilot

[Chorus] 2x

"Aiyyo enough's enough" [Fat Joe]

Word up, I don't front

I just keep it on the rise, and give you what you want

[Defari]

(What you need)

Here, don't fear peep this

Step inside my mentals, bare witness to a lyricist

Skilled technician, rhythmous technique

Advanced speak, I put mics in condition

The streets always like hard beats

That shit that make you move your neck when you're in car seats

My star fleet, Likwit family

You Sorry, like that game from Milton-Bradley

Bound by honor, rollin mad bags of skama

I've never been the one for the Jerry Springer drama

Not an actor, just the greastest multiple factor

This rap game's like a computer, and I'm a hacker

Linebacker, wit hits that hit like LT

Watch the blitz, you'll get a Joe Theisman injury

What's all the glitter