[Hook 1]
I'm beginning to feel like a black God (black God)
God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For)
Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours)
I think you're way overrated, your shit ain't that hard (That Hard)

[Verse 1]
But for me to run up with them shooters would be a bad scene
I'm from the back blocks where they clap rockets
I'm the king of New York
And that pap blockin
Got a mac cocked, ain't no slap boxin'
They had B.I.G. in a bigger coffin, ever since Dave Dinkins was still in office, with everybody hatin killin office (fuck that)
Momma should of had a quick abortion
But as soon as they start reachin more shells
Critical, pull a fourfifth pull a forfeit this ziggity >???<
You don't really wanna slip into it cuz Pap is a tragedy
That's backwards strap in the back of the Cadillac
Black click clack blasting the mac naturally
Pap bang mines I present this critical rap attached what?
While I'm mastering that, it's really fatal, I rock your motherfuckin cradle
And go take a nap with a bunch of maggots
And you'll have to relax but in real life it was high cronic I was puffing bag after bag that's a fact
How could he not go all I shoot is teflons 40 calibers gats
Rappers a bragging enough I'm serious, but he's actually trash
He crabbed to me i cracked his crash
Feel the rap for your majesty
I create so rapidly fast

[Hook 2]
I'm beginning to feel like a black God (Black God)
God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For)
Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours)
I'm so underrated I am the Black God (Black God)

[Verse 2]
Everybody want to be in a precinct
They snitching, its sad to see they way raps are
Come move with the movement, drop jewels and remove the confusion
Everybody wanna use an illusion, spit a verse from the bad boy, did nothing but use and abuse him (Biggie!)
MC's be fakin', it's proven, I'm crussin' cos I'm shooting
Jump in a vehicle and bust a nine!
Who wrote the Blueprint?
Me? I'm a product of Malcolm X Willie Lynch, no not him
W.E.B. Dubois, Free O. J., Rest in peace to Johnnie Cochran
We ride it enough today
Show up, Show ‘nough, we define the definition
Of the words “Be Free”, these suckas tellin’ us to fuckin lock and
Load all them thangs, even though I fought with the works
I’m cursed with all the blame, homie all the blame I be gettin
Make me wanna go just shit on you lames, ain’t toilet trained
You maggots all the same, ‘till i cock and pop that thang
Straight aimin’, ain’t hittin' you off of mistaken
AK lookin' boy, home boy done came around the same town ???
Put a stamp on it, when a dope fiend die from it
Everybody say he got the best of the boy
Shoot like an AK, that boy don’t play, remix ery'day lookin boy
Don’t get it fucked up, facts with the facts
Witcha' favorite flow from the cradle to the grave, lookin' boy
You playin', lookin boy? Pray lookin' boy
I’m from Brooklyn, around the way, lookin' boy
I'mma merc you. Turn around and laugh, never ask
Nobody to grip stay in your place, lookin' boy
Facin' me boy? Ya' rap style is replaceable
I always win the race, lookin' boy

[Hook 3]
I'm beginning to feel like a black God (Black God)
God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For)
Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours)
The way I'm rotting on this track call me jaguar (Jaguar)
Man when the reals involved your mans get gripped on and clapped on


[Verse 3]
See, you don’t smoke what I be smokin', No homie, it’s highly potent
Leave ya' whole body broken, your casket is finally closin'
And I do not be chokin'
When i toss the lead straight out the picture with these
Rhymes I wrote'em. You gone' need Ibuprofen
I was designed to school you, these rappers be tryna' fool you
I’m controllin dis, pinch ya'self in the head and cry with boohoos
It’s P
I’d rather die than salute you, my knowledge is crucial
If i don’t capitalize how it’s unsuitable
For all these blood-suckin' guys
So I wanna make sure somewhere in the written rap my lyrics will school you and
Bust rhymes to, beat these beats like Nick Cannon in “Drumline"
Everybody talking 'bout NY, when they dissed our city, he was toungue-tied
Rappers are phony mad at me cause I run mine
I don’t care where you from, I’m from the ???
Still king of the Underground, but I still rap
Like I’m on my Pimp C and Bun grind from Sunrise
To sunrise, fuck Sometimes
Me, Old tees(?) and a couple of other guys
Was the only ones who spoke from the mayan
Ancient, you hit that tough guy in the head
Oh i’m back in the ratchet empty
Run or Die, shot him like the movie "Life"
When they ran across that gun line
Put it all in the rhyme, they don’t understand the lesson I’m >???<
Pap from around the way he say she say I don’t got the same buzz, but I'm
More than sick with the oral, York’s, this is formal
Fuckin with that boy, but his album bore you
And i don’t know what the fuck, you run for
The shots just gonna touch you in your fucking
Torso >???<
And I just bought a new AK from a shooter, just to come and shoot ya
Like when Papoose made Big Sean mad
Pap said "He like a fag” and Kanye ass never shot back cause he had no ammo
Man, oh man, Pap taught that boy a lesson
And he ate yo man too. So that boy went straight to the radio station the very next week
“Hey Pap, it’s comical"
Critics I'mma blast you while using knowledge and speed
Micro Machine
Some of you ain’t doin nothing, you a sucka’ i be shootin'
Bucking at ya' crew and now I rule you-you-you-you
I’m renovatin' and I made it right so everything I say is articulating
‘till the tinger hits a funeral
Regulating rolling never speculating
Time to get the motherfucking glory, all the imitators imitating
Generating and I know the fakers are forever faking
Wanna see an artist take my headoff, they be hella' hating
‘Cause I know the way to get'em all creating
Put a nickel plate and use it, you just hesitate to use it
"Oh, he ain’t the real king"
That’s what they say when they be stuck in that illusion
Kick rocks, ya’ album flip flop
Yo trash wasn’t selling you a true bitch
Crip Glocks, cock back quick shots
They be drops that you never could improve in
"I don’t know how to make bars like that, that boy just hurts the booth"
Lemme know when you got the urge to move
Wills put you in a herse when they squirt through the roof
Thristy, i’m an immerker, you twerking dudes
Prove that if you could fathom right from wrong, you could master life’s purpose to all
You dummies, real funny, but look at the path I laid
You still from me, pulling my wealth. You still bore me
Don’t lie to yourself with them hateful rules
Elevate your mind fool ‘cause I
Still study, I’m gully. Ill when I spit my tongue
I just spit in your face and say "fuck you"
Punk, you hating and i’m so fucking real
I’m launching a log, you blaming the industry, kill that noise
Bush ruined the country. But straight ahead’s something that's
Getting ugly for money. Soldiers fight with rebels and
Here’s what is becoming
Catastrophe obliviates our living space, and it’s a state of elimination
Full of hate from the paths to disgrace. Our generation of kids
Pathetic. Say it’s liberation, but they plan is to kill a nation
But fuck it, you afraid of the gimicks? Blaze at the fake then
But if I can’t shatter they image
How the fuck am I supposed to face all the racists?
Don’t debate, that is hating cause I’m able to straight take
The fore train of bowl and green and erase all they wages, they living large
And take that cape from the majors, don’t be a facade
Wooden king? Think hard, Pap the king. Peace to the Gods