[Verse 1: Lord Finesse]
You know
The plan, G. I’ll rip any mic you hand me
I’ve been down, this ain’t no motherfucking Brandy
It’s Lord Finesse, yeah, you know it. It’s that
Funky type poet that get loose like aerobics
You know I be slamming suckers. When I’m
Not on the mic, I’m making more moves than a dance instructor
I have no passion for rhymers
Nowadays, I come with more styles than fashion designers
Rappers be cold fronting, they’re like
Forrest Gump (Why?), them n***as don’t know nothing
So watch how I hit ‘em
In ‘95 and beyond, Lord Finesse is true and living

[Verse 2: Lord Finesse]
I don’t have to pop tools to stop crews or mop fools
I’ll play it cool and smooth and, like, drop jewels
I get props and never fail, hops
The stuff I’m delivering you can’t get in your mailbox
I won’t sink the way my brain thinks
When it comes to crews, I’m connected like a chain link
I’m out to make large figures. You could be a
Casino dealer and still couldn’t pull my fucking card, n***a
I’m so bad with the vocab—that’s only
Part of it. Now let me school you on the whole half
I’m no stranger, more like danger like playing
Russian Roulette with five bullets in the chamber
I get more props, I’m raw, hops, with the sure
Shot that’s guaranteed to make all your girls’ drawers drop
So peep my funk style of rhythm
Word life, kid (What’s up?), I’m true and living
[Verse 3: Lord Finesse]
Now it’s The Funky Man, and n***as can’t see me (Right)
When I grab the mic, you better play the wall like graffiti
‘Cause whether fast or something slow
I’m “Bad” like Michael Jackson, only thing is I’m fucking dope
Ayyo, so just save it. I’m one of
The funkiest, plus the underground favorite
That got astounding rhymes that’ll make
Your grandmoms get up when I decide to get down for mine
I’ll make your whole platoon nervous trying to get live
I’ll bring it to that ass like fucking room service
What you gonna do when I hunt you down? You could have
A freak on a Ferris wheel, you still couldn’t fuck around
This is how it goes when Finesse raps
When brothers be sleeping on a n***a, but I don’t stress that
It’s the man that be rapping clever—that’s why
I’m gonna shine forever like patent leather
Have no fear, I kick it simple and so clear
Fuck making your day, I got some shit for your whole year
I don’t know why these crews be fronting—they could have
Three U-Haul trucks and still won’t be moving nothing
I put n***as on curfews, I hurt crews
My style is harder than the heel on fucking church shoes
Wanna wear my shoes? You can’t fit ‘em
In years to come, I’ll be true and living