You better pray for the day when I don’t enter the fray
And spray lyrics like AK’s, cause I’m here to stay
See, they think it’s child’s play when I properly display
How I eat MCs like a buffet, but I say
I think you need a replay of this lyrical exhibition
The competition don’t understand the tradition
Of being a lyrical tactician, better listen
As the style of a mic technician worsens your condition
Combining this with the sound of the underground
That’s bound to pound eardrums, shaking the ground
Like the earthquake until like mirrors, they break
When I head state to state, I plan to take the cake
Scratch—I aim lower, nickname: Kobra the Insane Flower:
Spit one, and then it’s game over
Like Street Fighter, flows I spit tighter
With words hard to decipher, ready to take ‘em higher
Like Diana Ross, I’m the one you don’t wanna come across
If you do, suffer many a loss, cause I’m the final boss
Like M. Bison, Geese Howard, and Shao Kahn
Bring it on, cause I can go on till the break of dawn
And so can the beat, I could put it on repeat
But here’s my last two bars in case you think I’m too sweet
Hell hath no fury like an emcee’s scorn
And I have sworn by the mic to stay hardcore like porn