Well, Well, Well

Well, well, well, well, well, well
Yeah, yeah, yeeaah-he
You better know now or know how
We so foul and profound
Blowouts, CDs sold out, the illest no doubt
When Celph Titled rolls out, immaculate respect
Uzis and TECs, protect your neck with a teflon turtleneck
Bitch there ain’t a diesel cat that could face me
You don’t really want to run your mouth and have to make me
Summon the gods with my mystery chant
And perform the running-man for my victory dance
Murder motherfuckers mostly over money with guns to they tummy
Hollow-tips that leave you stiffer than a mannequin, dummy
Record a demo while the Demigodz make new songs
Your better off running the triathalon with parachutes on
A real bug-nigga, and that’s how I’m better known
You make beats, I’d rather rhyme to a metronome
Other crews got egos but can’t floss right
I’ll run them over, have 'em smoking the exhaust pipe
Well, well, well, well, well, well
Yeah, yeah, yeeaah-he
Already proved that all my rhymes are wicked enough
They sleep when you on the mic, you’re fucking Jigglypuff
A big kid, yeah, fuck, I don’t wanna grow up
And I don’t care what he says, yo he can suck a… know what
I’m bigger than that, smile when you kicking my raps
Have converstions with your girl while she sits on my lap
Yo, stop talking about they girls man, it’s starting to get old
Well, umm, no tell they girls to stop leaving they clothes
The reason I flow is not to just get us indoors
Pops in barber shops like my son is better than yours
Cause and effect, Rise is the effect and the cause
All those who came before I just perfected their flaws
Perfect because I have to be, look at my town
Neglecting the laws of gravity, I’m not coming down
There’s cops on the ground that look like dots on a map
From the level of where I’m at when I’m dropping, you wack
Bounce
Well, well, well, well, well, well
Yeah, yeah, yeeaah-he
I rock rhymes that blow ends, drop lines like gold friends
Pull dimes that start trends, while your trying to make amends
Your girls be like your wallet, all fives and no tens
Actually they’re all ones, you bust with small guns
I look like an MC who murders the spot
Like Derek Jeter looks, like a smaller version of The Rock
Bitch please, I never ever met a dick-tease
I’m so cool that when I spit frees my spit freeze
Old Yeller, I’m known to leave a fella
With more cuts and scratches than the Shook Ones acapella
You want to fuck around with Esoteric
And blown on some bullshit like working-dice-credit
When rappers try they usually step and die
Then MCs get the message like a number I don’t recognize
Your call her back, pop minds they hear me freestyle
And spend the next seven days hittin' redial
Well, well, well, well, well, well
Yeah, yeah, yeeaah-he
I keep the planet under my spell, under my reign
I stay on tracks, while throwing rappers under the train
I’m numbing your brain, stunning you while tonguing your dame
I appreciate her, everything that’s under her brain
When reciting it’s lighting with thunder and rain
A Demigod that’s beyond your small blundering brains
Fortune and fame, really it’s just one and the same
That I obtain while you’re still a bum begging for change
Tryna front like you’re new and really nothing has changed
You ain’t underground, you’re locked in a dungeon with chains
You’re not a thug 'cause you rock your little Lugz and a chain
I’m a slug, nah fuck that, I’m double the pain
Your hussling game is lame, couple bucks and a name
Maybe some buckets of champagne with sluts in the range
I’ll fuck with your brain and flex so your muscles are strained
Until your nothing but a punk clutching crutches and canes
Muthafucka
Well, well, well, well, well, well
Yeah, yeah, yeeaah-he
Well, well, well, well, well, well