[Verse 1: Saint]
In house like Fraser
On your mind like Frasier
Headspace that you take up, is something like what an a cup, in a
Bra made for, Kelly (Kelly) Brook would look like, yeah, cuz it ain't much
But I know where the snakes are
So they ain't touching the fruits of labour

It's Saint on the mic, blessed on the beat and I say what I like
See what I want, I'ma take it, it's mine
Guess my reign has arrived
May be the new king, but I stay grind on my grind
And I aim for sky, cuz my aspirations are high
You could say, for greatness I strive

And I ain't no mumble rapper, or I'll go, (unintelligible speech)
How wavy am I? (bars)
Boy, you can't reach these levels, start taking a hike
I'm afraid that shit ain't fly 'round me, boy, I'll facilitate your demise

So take some advice
You should say your goodbyes right now or I may just get hype, and this patience of mine is something you really ain't finna try, I ain't gonna lie
They call me a (Saint) cuz everything that I say is divine, everything I create is sublime
I'm taking my time when I work on my art, (music), you would think I paint for the blind

When I gave 'em the sight I just let off
Every bar is a headshot, you just got get blatantly sniped (Kablow!)
I've got a dangerous mind, too sharp but your heads placed on a pike
Too many wanna shot, wait in the line
Giving man sour grapes making 'em whine (wine)
Basically right

[Chorus: PHresher & Saint]
Bitch, I'm at your throat like chloraseptic, 'septic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless

[Verse 2: Saint]
And I'll take a hundred of you (A hundred of you)
I'ma be at your throat like you were bunnin' a zoot (bunnin' a zoot)
Evident I'm the shit soon as I jump in booth (jump in the booth)
I'ma be here all day cuz I got nothing to do (nothing to do, nothing to do)

This is the text that I spit, every word that exits my lips
Is like an alchemical mix of fucking incredible wits and indelible ink
Showing you skeptical pricks, like it was legible script
That I got bars and I let em all rip
I don't even need instruments, I'ma just spit to the organ that's next to my ribs

Repping the Biz, you cannot step in my kicks
You do not get how I live
So many heavy thoughts weigh on my mind, your mind has never been gym
Guess you ain't working it out (uuuhhh)
No time to be letting you think, I'll be getting it in like a boss
Running shit like there's a line you don't cross
But you know I'ma cross (I'm across) like I'm vex and I switched

Chloraseptic this dick, cuz I got no respect for no bitch
And I'm not being sexist to chicks, but these skets are not on you unless you are rich
Where is my whip? Where is my crib?
Where is my watch? Where is my bling?
These skets are concerned what I wear on my wrist
And they still have the gall to where is my ring?

Ho I ain't fucking with you (fucking with you)
You want a ring you don't need up in a mood, cuz what I'll just do
Is wring on your throat 'til you choke like you're huffing the fumes, cough and you puke
Shits going down, and I'm not even flushing the loo (ewww)

[Chorus: PHresher & Saint]
Bitch, I'm at your throat like chloraseptic, 'septic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless

[Verse 3: Saint]
I do not know what got into me (into me)
When I get ill, you get ill at ease (ill at ease)
All on this mic like I'm Billie Jean (Billie Jean)
Lyrically I'm on a killing spree
There is a high probability that you might suffer an injury if you are in my proximity
It's probably best that you leave the vicinity
You boying me? You must be kidding me

Me I got punch lines upon punch lines, and I'm landing em all
Like man put one hand to your jaw that's socked in the mouth no mandible claw (Pow!)
This mic here is the hammer of Thor
And I'm certainly gifted thats what makes me the one who's worthy lift it
You man still lack rational thought

You man never come strapped to the war (never)
It's like you wanna get clapped no applause
Why the fuck would you battle me for?
And don't act like you haven't been warned
This verse I spit's the third time, and that's your third strike, so hand me a fork
Three strikes? that's a turkey, and what goes well with cranberry sauce

I eat rappers, thats a meat platter
You eat rappers, thats a knee slapper
I'm so cold my own teeth chatter
I spend P that's a weak bladder
I wreak havoc when I speak , batter, bruise, beats black, and you gon' need back up
Emcees scatter
I won't teabag ya but I'll be at your fucking throat like

[Chorus: PHresher & Saint]
I'm at your throat like chloraseptic, 'septic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless

[Outro: Saint]
I'm at your throat like fucking strepsils, strepsils
That Chloraseptic instrumental, 'mental
I'm going intercontinental, 'nental
Man I'm too silly with this pencil, with this pencil, with this pencil