A minor manifestation of my potent education
Can be detected in my strong articulation
No time for scabs, crabs or crustaceans
Funk music is cute but rap is my vocation
French is the language spoken by most Haitians
If you're not tuned to this yo you gotta change the station
I am a vendor you're a consumer
So I wanna know something, what's up with Pumas?
Back in the days Pumas used to be it
Nowadays they throw em together like they really don't give a shit
Ya I'm jumpin' from one subject to the next
Don't smoke crack, we need safe sex
You wanna get laid without getting AIDS
So buy the condoms by the case before the game is played
I'm always ready, never need rehearsal
Television sucks, too many commercials
Summers I enjoy cause girls wear less
Winters I enjoy because my gear is fresh
I ain't fresh when I dress to show my success
I know it's not a fashion show but why should I look a mess?
Thank goodness for you suckers who just can't rock
Without you how we would know who's fresh and who's not
You gotta think fast in order to pass
Because you know you slow your ?
That means you come in last
Every rhyme you heard me say you best believe that I wrote
Due to my imagination and my muscular throat
Let me quote, a wise man, who once said
"If ever bite ? may I drop dead"
Yo I'm chillin'...chillin'
I'm arrogant, harmin' it, my lyrics are dominant
Your city is in danger, cause I'm bombing it
Verbally disturbing you wonder what the next word will be
Don't even sweat it, yo it just occured to me
It's hard to find a rapper with my dedication
Intellect, sense of humor plus imagination
Of course I love money so in God I trust
If I was any more talented than I just might bust
I'm not conceited but I got a good reason to be
Don't even nibble on my rhymes cause that's treason to me
And the penalty for treason is you must be shot
I don't even need a gun with the rhymes I got
Yo I could rap you dead, make you run out of breath
And just when you think I got no rhymes left
I'll increase my release and upgrade the pressure
Ya got me on a mission I'm going to have to measure
Up like you've never been messed before
Next time you steal a rhyme you better be sure
It's not a composition that the Chill One wrote
When I'm in competition I go for the throat
I have you caught up in meta-physical dilemma
Go get your greasy granny, your ugly aunt Emma
Your mother, your brother or any other family member
I'll take em off the count, get on with my agenda
I'ma beat you in the black, in the darkness of your ignorance
You like that huh? Yeah, well I figured
Since you got a little smarter than you were last here
An intellectual rhyme you're bout ready to here
So I wrote this one and remember son
Rob G does work to the job is done
Yo I'm chillin'...
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