[Verse 1: Matter Ov Fact]

No substance known, could phase these vet's minds
Get booed off the stage
And tell the crowd, "maybe next time"
Insanely fresh rhyme
With a Lord Finesse attitude
But still used to half ass applause
With less gratitude
The average views?
The track was oddly sour
Or the best thing since Gold Bond medicated body powder
A shroud of what a sorry coward fears
Hear it any louder
You might catch a bad case of cauliflower ear
It's like no power steer fluid
A turn for the worst
Rappers getting hexed
Like discovering an urn with a curse
And replaced with tears from their saddened lover
With bad luck, like you gracing this year's Madden cover
A habit of a- being astute course
Factoid grab the mic and bust off with brute force
To my cohorts, leave the Bronx heading due north
And cross the Tappan Zee
And you might run into two fourths-
Of the Gang
Yo, the other two grown mans
Nomad, mic scavengers with no homeland
The duo known to crash venues of fake crews
And just steal the show
Like we were Elwood and Jake Blues
(Make moves)

[Verse 2: EP]

Might be the only rapper crying after sex
Cause I be lying if I stressed
That I be grinding past a sec
Maybe a second and a half
My weapon jetting fast
Wetting crevice in your ass
Tears are stupid
Jeers took in to do this
Fears booking the new shit
"Here's looking at you, kid"
Years put in to boost it
A melancholy two manner
Wool slanter
Seven onlay tooth planter
Loose banter
Kevin Ollie to Bruce Banner
Uncouth manners
Getting jolly with goose dander
Caboose rammer
In pesticide metropolis
Philosophic, iller prophet with the homonyms
My team of specializing operatives
Fine dine pasta dish
Non-cooperative, killing hostages
Pouring wine down my esophagus
Trying to hitch down my spine
You imposter, bitch!