I'm the problem and the solution The revolution won't be televised, it's too gruesome Too gangster, too graphic for you born-again faggots My words inspire people like the ten commandments I floss with diamond teeth, SCUBA dive on a private beach Billy Idol smoke chronic with Cheech I cut your tongue out for talking against me My enemies' grandchildren will remember me for centuries The fine line between insanity and genius Murder you, I give your reality a remix Humanity's beneath us, we super humans Super tyrants, super violent, listen to the way my nine click Right before I pop your collar The most hated from New York like I shot your mamma Compare me to Amazon.com for dollars Canarsie Osama, riding with a ? of martyrs, fucker

Hardcore chemical, gangster material Tri-city machine bang in your stereo Put em up, shut em down Keep it raw, riding with the gutter sound

The thicker the plot, the quicker the shot, the liquor and pot Got me higher than the Denver junkie, shocking the monkey Feeding his habit, set it up, cook it up, tie it off and stab it Shoot it up, feel the rush then throw up your guts Nod out for a while cause the style is nuts Like I'm in Roca, it's fucking Coka These other cats fake it with that baking soda

This is it, this is it, yeah I'm back on the shit again (Slaine: Danny Boy, Danny Boy, you ever gonna spit again?) C'mon homie you know me, yeah I birthed your style The money-back guarantee, I make it worth your while Still the Cadillac King, I don't fuck with foreign cars American, I need a blowjob and a porn star Nobody move, no not one punk I fuck around and pull out my shotgun pump

Yeah dope motherfuckers I came back to spit Move with the hunger fueled by a lack of chips When I lose my cool and shoot it's accurate Give me some room, I make yous move back a bit I came from a town where the hope can drown Bought a teaspoon ? from the dope and found With their necks tied up and the rope around Eighties cars overheated broken down Car-thieving heathen, living where no odds or even Gambling fist fighters watching the kid bobbing and weaving Everybody scheming, we all deceiving I wrote my words on the walls of mausoleums Now I stand in a position of strength So I speak for those who can't, I spit what I think I'm from the city where motherfuckers were sticking the pigs I rep the Irish street cats and the micks in the clink, c'mon