[Verse One] [Emilio Rojas]:
Listen, I'll body anybody
Leave anybody that I body needin' antibodies cause I'm not just anybody
I'm somebody to be dissed at all
Laughing at you lames and I'm dancing on your grave like Baryshinikov
Whatever ish you talk I brush it off
Fuck 'em all
You won't win you got no spin like knuckle balls
You tryin' to treat me like your wallet, you get written off
You only reachin' for me for some money, or a business card
I sic my dogs on you, let 'em sink they teeth in
Until they walkin' from you full and gnawing on your pieces
Emilio the name synonymous with Jesus
Cause you worship every fuckin' piece of ground I put my feet in
Uh, yeah I know I got an ego I'm conceited
I'm the worst thing to happen to rap since Jay-Z quit
You ain't got no kind of buzz you a secret
Your engineer don't listen when he mixin' down that weak shit
So keep it to yourself, homie stop the sharing
You a fag, probably dressin' in drag like Donna Karan
And I brag cause the shit in the bag, it's not apparent
Emilio, Chaundon and Mag, stop starin'
Yeah

[Verse Two] [Mag]:
Mag n***a
The throne ain't available
Let it alone n***a, Mag home
Flowin' this religious I get psalms
But stigous, well known I stack digits
Get the gift to spit from my moms
Give me the strength to drop the...lyrical bombs of the son
The Bronx shit I've been on
Far from the norm I'm gone
No longer Mag, I'm King Kong
Tryin' to find the one lickin' my letters
Searchin' for the best, follow bread crumbs
Who better find some, there is none
No equivalent I'm too nice n***a
Son is ambivalent for dividends
Mag be on some different shit
From here
Put flare in a snare...there is a difference
What up Tif?
Hater's won't get off of the boy dick
So I give it to 'em sicker than HIV
Better to give I heard
So I serve 'em the curb
Y'all rap I'm just better with words
[Verse Three] [Chaundon]:
I'm back at it, the chick magnet
Layin' verses and broads down, Mr. Craftmatic
Don't sleep, victory got's more than it's share
Staring down my opponents like they got no business here
Know somebody nicer go and get 'em
Your boy Peter Parker just did a whole mixtape of Venom
A summer blockbuster
The street needed heat cause the lukewarm MC's LP's were lackluster
How does it feel knowin' that your very best
Is considered less and will always be second guessed?
To one of my caliber
Metaphorically speaking this is target practice I shoot down challengers
Should've had your best on
Aim for the neck and above so it's pointless for you to have a vest on
Go 'head gangsta, dive run for cover
I'm here with the Get Back Army, Little Brother
You'll never get next cause we still got now
Forever connected like Al B. Sure's eyebrow
Earn my respect son, I'm better than the rest
Nickname A-1, no one see me with a check
I used to hate rap until I started my career
Cause it was all the same I needed something else to hear
Y'all know the feelin'
Every rapper's a hustler, do us all a favor, go back to drug dealing
Ha
Go back to drug dealing