[Chorus x4]
Whatever will be will be Que Sera, Sera

[Verse 1]
My rhymes wake them up, they're snoring ignoring yours
Yours are as boring as four in the morning chores
I'm more into going touring exploring the foreign shores
Spit thunder; performing in pouring storms
Original, never conforming to boring norms
Got a cheap Mic and recorded in Florida dorms
They loved me, I was supported before the swarms
Of garbage emcees, distorting the art form
Underground; under the floor in the corridors
The undeniable Rap Lord of the orators
I was sort of broke, too poor to afford a Porsche
Pulling up slamming the doors of the Ford Explorers
Buying backwoods that we'd score at the corner stores
Rest In Peace rapper I'm pouring a quart of Coors
On the floors outside of the doors of the Source Awards
On the front lines I spit a chorus before the war
Rapper you're rapping like your clitoris is sort of sore
You're sounding like you need some sort of Thesaurus
Or a Dictionary your vocabulary sure is poor
Study my old raps and learn metaphors galore
I'm the raw truth, the Universe will endorse
I'm tapped in to the source of enormous force
Hip Hop was dead they reported a dormant corpse
But Benefit lives you were misinformed of course

[Chorus x4]
Whatever will be will be Que Sera, Sera