[D the Definition has since retired from the rap game]

[Produced by DJ Premier]

[Verse 1: Definition]
The breath control is suspect
But lungs are made of lead pipes
And rhymes the type if you scratching you're head like:
"No one's touching him," chances are you dead right
Kicking [???] [???] like head lice
My head against the wall trying to write this
I'm so sleep deprived you can see both of my eyes twitch
And half of me doesn't fucking like this
I argue with myself to avoid the awkward silence
At this point I'm probably not the sanist
I'm always fearing [???] without stepping foot in Vegas
Always fucking paranoid by people being contagious
So I throw most of my milk [???] insane shit
I'm cynical, with temper like Yosemite
I'm screaming obscenities at faggots who pretend to be
All of this fake shit, that they couldn't begin to be
Deserve a swift kick to the, lower extremities
Consider [me?] a joke [knock?] they busting
Fussing from the way I repercussion like it's nothing
Fuck 'em

Talk circles around you
Speaking different tongues and dialects
[???] that we've only just begun
And be warned, my shit is [enough of?] the dimwitted wit
Nothing but hair and hot air [???] fitted
Dumb it down, get a little conservative
Spit shit with no substance just perservatives
And I don't [do?] that shit whack
You think you never heard of this
Even though nine-out-of-ten would say I murder this
[?????] like a fucking freight train
[??????????????????????????????] so don't
Lose your focus, the flow is ferocious
I leave them comatosis from the way that I wrote this
So shit, you didn't expect dopeness
Cause whitey flow so safe, develop psychosis

I'm a plethora of styles, some are old and new
But all them beautifully confused over one's and two's
Hear a lot of dudes [???], I'm not amused
You're reign is over, hide your mic and [???] busted ugly shoes
Move, with me motherfucker if you feeling
You can hear it in my voice
And gotta tell you who the realest, so
Mista', Mista', how you gonna' diss her?
[Do with?] rhymes you gotta' say nine times to hit ya'
Run up in the spot and drink nine times the liquor
As an average cat, but he dead, nine times sicker
So you about to witness, how I rip the [writless?]
[Without no fucking business?] grabbin' the mic like
"What is this?"
They lack the mental fitness, and toughness, give up quick like
"Fuck this! This kid is bringing ruckus"
I got the flow required to consider this fire
So hot
The most cold-blooded, the beast perspire
And through this I'm inspired to elevate even higher
To a point that hopefully allows my pops to retire