[Verse 1: Matrix]
Sometimes I wish I could
Stop the world from spinning and step out of it
Kick it off its axis and stagger these rappers off-balance
But, instead, I challenge by pouring advanced skills by the gallons
I add, and no one has a chance a-gainst this
A-mazing, A-L-L action. Also, instead
Of babbling like gossiping bitches swallowing final wishes
And hard-rock dreams of crack cream from fiends, I
Verbally break up emcees like dysfunctional families
So get with this different mix like seeds from interractial
Relationships, I draw crowds. At the same time, I erase kids
I discriminate like a racist a-gainst these basic
Lyricists that are cleaning out my wax, clogging my ears up
With tasteless tunes, flavorless buffoons
That are talkative, skills far from walkative. When it comes to battling
I don't give a fuck like a virgin practicing sexual
Abstinence 'cause, in my eyes, your presence makes no appearance
Like absent students who went to join the
Uneducational rookies playing hooky with those perpetrating
Niggas going bananas, influenced by cannabis
You’re far from notorious, far from victorious, far from glamorous
Far from glorious, niggas waste time, telling fiction
Stories about what they pack on their waistline while I
Occupy minds by leaving these rappers worn-out like hand-me-downs
I slam these clowns permanently and leave competition
On the hush like a suburban library
I'm a perfect candidate, nominating for dominating these
Toy thugs packing a fraud gun and a clip full
Of fakes, shooting full-of-shit bullets

[Hook] (x2)
Sometimes, I wish
I could stop the world from spinning and step out of it
Kick it off its axis and stagger these rappers off-balance
But, instead, I challenge by pouring advanced skills by the gallons
Keep pouring, keep, keep pouring

[Verse 2: A-Butta]
Yo, I pray
To God for all my enemies (All my enemies), I squeeze my vocal chords
Until my voice box lets out hypnotic melodies and keep
My eyes chinky like Vietnamese inhaling trees, believe
In faith and wisdom, and stay away from Satanism
I abuse those who choose to use forms of plagiarism
Worship me like paganism, don't deceive my brain with izm
A and Matrix got it on lock, so count your days in prison
I don't care what niggas say. This nigga A will live the day the simple way
True lyrics, no need to let the trigger spray
Retaliate and strike back as if I was a ricochet. Matter of fact
I just let my lyrics say who's A-Butta while others
Try to figure ways to discover how true brothers master facts
And how many heads my rap attracts, I counterattack
The rap like cataracts with eyesight, get in the Zone
Deeper than Twilight when I grab the mic tight
What I write tonight will bring hip-hop back to its origins
While mortal men stay delicate like porcelain, lyrics
Get sicker than the mind of Dr. Kevorkian, my thoughts
Are blending in (Like what?) like camouflage in war terrain
I torture your brain, scorching flames when I call your name. Hip-hop
Is sure to change, and when it does, I'm sure my name will probably
Run through your vein, I shine like polyurethane. What's contained
Inside my brain’ll constantly put crews to shame, then
You wonder who's to blame when you the main reason why
Y’all hear bums speaking, leave your eardrums bleeding
When I hear drums beating, the surface of my cerebrum
Penetrates like a parasite, sounds through satellites
(All day, all night) Lyrical syllables I sacrifice
On this mic device, I get slicker than Andrew Dice and switch
Your style like hermaphrodites, from models to dykes
Why do rappers say they rappers when they all rap alike? To me
That's nonsense, that's why I drops sense when I grab the mic
And go through those rhymes like po-nine through traffic lights, my rap
Ignites insight which will paralyze spines
Tranquilize lines, lyricism gratifies minds. Some niggas
Laugh at my rhymes, but half of the time, they ignorant
Insignificant, fake hip-hop hypocrites, illiterate
Exquisite lyrics get deep to the touch
Get that crust out of your eyes, you’ve been sleeping too much
You killed my people enough in this forbidden industry
Which, to me, is the epitome (Of what?) of what we call wickedry
And misery, me, myself, and I blesséd trinity
Test me lyrically and end up critically wounded
Bless tunes with scriptures that were written in cuneiform, my flow
Is legendary similar to myths of unicorn, po-nine
Is really swine disguised in uniform. You’ve been born
Into a world with no axis, A and Matrix
With no practice, our flow tactics will put
Rappers below average while I stay above the curve
Showdowns with pronouns, plus I make love to verbs

[Hook] (x2)
Sometimes, I wish
I could stop the world from spinning and step out of it
Kick it off its axis and stagger these rappers off-balance
But, instead, I challenge by pouring advanced skills by the gallons
Keep pouring, keep, keep pouring