[Verse 1: VIP]
Till I collapse
I be spitting raps as long you're listening
Flo Rida got it wrong
She too busy screwing me to be whistling
Listening, whistling, glistening
Make sure to knock
Luther putting papers on your door, but got more class than John Locke
Curbstomping scrubs in Gears of War, all aboard the Cole train
Lord of the weather, call me Zeus, Indra, cause I make it rain
Driving downtown, cruising at 105, popo think I'm scheming
Life's so good, gotta pinch myself, make sure I'm not dreaming
Riemann sums, adding up all the swag, got no bounds
Little ant haters, right hand rule, coming over these mounds
3 years ago, a friend said I'm short, now he looks up to me
Sci-talk: discussion leader; I speak so well you're lucky this rap's free

[Verse 2: Sheath]
Sheath to the newcomers, Pra----h to the old friends
Praj to the close ones, I'm a b---h to no man
Get the ash off your hands, put em all in a vase
Evade, cause that's your grave
Tombstone, here you lay
Hear you complain, "man this isn't fair, look here
I'm taking the stairs while you take the escalator again."
It's too late to argue, it's already past 3
A.M. in the morning man, this is T-Painful for me
Hearing you trying, striving, to compare you with me
We're in different circles so stop and venn diagram me
Push you off, who do you think you are
Touching my arm?
Subterranean, too below me
To walk on the ground that I'm on
Sike, no ground, all air
Nike, I'm all victory
I'll just do it when I want to, yeah you'll all see
Name's Sheath, don't forget cause I'm just like a sword
My rap's too sharp, too potent like a poison to give you all...

[Verse 3: HighRise]
Back from the dead, but it's only the beginning
Set hell on fire, now I'm gunning for heaven
Shooting up the haters, this ain't no amateur hour
F--k Kanye, Kendrick, and Jigga
I'm running through them like Tim Hightower
Is it a bird? A plane? Nah it's just a beast
Kryptonite ain't got nothing on me, I'm tearing off of this leash
It's a cold world out there but I got J's on my feet
So when I kick you around, blood will surely fill the streets
A realistic, narcissistic misogynist with no fears
When I spit on the mic you know that the end of days is near
But don't get me wrong, I'm filled with holiday cheer
But unlike Santa Claus, I don't come once a year
Till I collapse
I'm popping caps in her ass
Off in Mexico with Mr. White cooking glass
Hit the gas!
This beat is almost over, but guess what?! *Laughs*
She's still bent over