[Verse]
He himself was too tired to create on the seventh day
Retired to dictate the fate of the estate
He's irate, who hired you? Wait
Came in late but still I thank you for the high grade
Nice trade! The weather's getting better
Today's a great day to drop bombs full of letters
In words that rhyme such as birds of a feather
They flock together chime and rock the same leather
They don't know me, these rappers better show me
How to skrt skrt or gang gang how to blow me
They hold the mic like a spic dick for an ugly chick
Pick a seat cause he badly need to speak *ahem*
Yes I heard it they play it on the radio
Mechanical and overplayed in every car stereo
A solo gizmo who's in the show just for the kicks
Fix my name dude, I know you ain't dyslexic
Spell it backwards, yell it when you see me
Then afterwards he can bail like he's Houdini
Try me, hi me, stymie indie emcee
Watch out for the LP of the M.E.D and yours truly
Keep the pen in your pocket moppet drop it men
Call me sir the architect Mr. Wren
Designed poems instead of homes refined tone
Hold the microphone with a bone now you're mindblown!

[Outro]
Come again? You want me to repeat that?
Used to be fit and thin but now he's getting fat
Broke bloke with little cash don't know when it'll last
We all hope to get past the lower caste middle class
Or wished we have another day
An extra day to keep at bay the troubles from the other days
There are few ways to end this certain flows
Either choke or cue the rap equivalent of...
Thank you folks, curtains close