How could I keep my composure

When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?

Release then veins in the brains increase

When I let off make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece

Unloadin unfold and the rhymes are explodin

And the mic that I'm holdin's golden

Cordless cause the wire caught fire like a fuse

Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction

The outcome is there so listen

Here's the brief description

A boom then flame then smoke, ashes a dust to dust

Contact is compact when I bust

MC's are now in a massacre

A disaster a... master at fashion a beat to death

To a pulp, till it can't pump

Speakers aint sayin nothin

Now the ball can thump

As I'm lookin' I stand like great buildings in Brooklyn

Then the stage is took then

Havoc struck that could product a whole court

Keep in touch with the mic when you're holdin y'all

Sumpin and pumpin and slobbin and droolin

Nothin's pumpin, who do you think ya foolin?

Tommy Tucker, the neighborhood sucker

What you oughtta do.... is pick up a tempo

From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent so

You start to kidnap

I watch the kid rap

When he get off he know he shouldn't a did that

Minor, old-timer, weak-rhymer, stay-in-liner

You won't be inclined to go so yo

Maybe later, you're gonna be

But for now, you're almost one of me

Now the immature imitations taken from originations

Made by tracin and a little arrangin

So perform, If ya still aint warm maybe after

A roast by the host with the most it's a musical massacre

Never tired, don't even try it, keep quiet

Like a storm, you could rain...but a riot

Remains, the gangs