[Verse 1]
Upper echelon
Top rank, 8-10 minutes for Ruck to sketch a song
Weapons drawn, shoot the shit out a do-gooder
Who keep they nose clean, won't fuck with hood boogers
P master, P master beats, [?]
We are the best, pull the sket and heatin' ya
Jimmy crack corn, n***a, I don't care
The semi smack your dome, homes, I don't care
Mindin' by biz, my daughter, my nine, and my wiz
Stroll through the park, muggers catch a slug in the heart
Food for thought, y'all n***as chugalug that is dark
'Fore the slug put blood on your Clarks, P
Hank McCoy on the record, the Beast
I shank your boy, leave him stretched in the street
The best rapper in the game
Petty crime rhyme, smack a rapper for his chain, P

[Verse 2]
Yo, the second verse better than the first
That don't mean that the first verse is the worst
It just mean that I'm better than everybody on the entire Earth
Rude ape, your food ate, surf and turf
I smack rappers and shoot haters
Luca Brasi Style, wild fish in the newspaper
I'm eatin' sushi in Moscow
N***as wantin' my autograph, I'm lookin' like "not now"
Pic flickin', I'm sorta yellin'
Backstage they serve fried chicken and watermelon (what the fuck?)
Ready to Kimbo jaws
Thinkin' these crackers fucked up like Jim Crow law
Racist crackers
Run to the gun store and have a race with ratchets
I grip the 4, squeeze
Two in your face, bitch, Victor Ortiz