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"Allstar Cypher"

Your majesty, makes casualties of wack emcees
Catch you off guard like n*ggas speaking japanese
Mics I have to seize, I'm Duracell, You're dollar-store batteries
With that wackness, please, send your weak records back to the factories
I shop in Delaware, ain't nobody taxing me
Not unlikely, well actually
We come hotter than big pun, you still don;t sound fat to me

We're bananas like a daiquiri, haven't you heard?
They say 3 is the magic number, Dominion's the magic word
I'm stabbing your nerves with the pens that's in your pocket protectors
Blocking you set, knock your head right off the top of you neck
I'm blocking your tech. Mad malicious, crazy vicious
Your rhyme was weak as f*ck, I thought that you were blowing kisses
Whole crew got issues. I ain't got time to diss you
I'm the sh*t, Only foes are diapers and Scott tissue
Competition I rip through. You can't tear sh*t
And the only projects you've ever been through... is Blair Witch

I can't hold a job, because I'm so sick I always call out
Make rappers sh*t enough bricks to build a small house
My records, if they're all out, buy the mixtape
I ripped it, unless the DJ screamed over my lyrics
Nasty, I've been called the MAN lately
Locked up, a ladies man, will turn to a man's lady
I heard your freestyles, and all the songs you come with
You're not developed, you should climb back in your mom's stomach

Wordworth's about to make your whole style plummet
I got a hundred of different styles
Matter of fact, I got a hundred of women
That means I got about a hundred of different childs
Or children, I've been building
Raps are just, be fulfilling my obligations, this is my job and my occupation
And I'm sorry if I'm rhyming at your own show, then I got you waiting

Hired MCs occupation is to rock the nation
I'm happy rocking the basement
Word Up, Cause I don't need to rock a whole population of small nations
Three people is enough, cause my rhymes that rough and tough
I'll call your bluff, call you up and hang up
Click! Leave you alone with the phone and the dialtone
A.L. show 'em

[A.L. Skills]
Now, you couldn't take me out if you had a chaperone
What! I kill MCs over the phone
So, call the fire guards, and red alert
Cause I kill MCs through your MHz, my baretta j*rks
Kills MCs off the top of the brain
Your girls giving me brain, cause AL is insane
You know the name, el nombre
I do it in Spanish, MCs stepping to me, of course they vanish
Spenglish or Spanglish, whatever, que loco tu qiuera
AL, fuera fuego

Given any instance in time, I split the rhythm in a million pieces
Pull tubes on scuba gear to disable the breathing features
I'm fabled in regions, that I've hardly seen or dreamed of even
Elvis believes I'm the king because I stole the crown from Stephen
I'm overachieving. Y'all n*ggas snoring or sleeping
Need to WAKE THE f*ck UP, game point for PLAYAS scoring a beating
The Foreman of freedom, when you let me on
Cause after you hear us...you'll never wanna go back like Elian

Yo, what the hell he on?
He be buggin out, when it's a hot track now you can tell we on
You prolly got some radiation inside of your brain and a tumor from hearing
This because your celly's on
But wordsworth'll come across any station
You prolly jotting this down for your doc*mentation
This is something off the top of the dome, I didn't write it
But I know I'll be killing all you rappers sooner or later, cause I'm a psychic
You gotta like it

He's a psychic, and I got my sidekicks, PackFM
You can't rush it, going biking, while you're pedaling
Yo, I f*cking roll, pumping like adrenaline
My sh*t is ill, I'm under your skin just like the melanin
PackFM, last name is an acronym, I'm smackin men
Um, f*cking getting your sh*t pumped just like an abdomen
A Six Pack, Yo, you get your sh*t back
Call the dispatch, because your sh*t's wack
Yo, get off the di*k black

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