Damn, I get that power like hydrogen
Clint Eastwood on the Polo horse riding in
Rough like drafts from the winds of a cyclone
Up like tornado alley roofs in the I-O-
What's good? Really though, you mean well?
No I don't, M-I-C-L like Sprewell
No I won't choke, but I'm fly like coach
First class like roll call, the worst at economy, but

If style was money
On game shows I'd play for charity

Musically I stop at nothing to get you on board, air's
What I'm getting like Mike Jordan, If you're snoring here's the buzzer
Balling like tether, this is not for squares
I am it, like I got tagged, there is no other
Phat with the pH, acidic, melt a critic's heart
Like butter in the pan, my volume is the grittiest
Bats out, not afraid to fail to get it started
So I seem off base to these weak ass idiots
About to steal the shine, over heads, let them tell the story
Hold up- wait (weight)- I'm pulling mine
Into left field, covering fair amounts of territory
Just warming up, yo, bullpen rhymes

Iowan- the demonym
Partying all freaking night
Wardrobe Lo'd out
Feeling like my drink is spiked

Sick with the kicks, phat with the hats
I swear that my snares are the rarest, in fact
It's so juicy like fruit when I dish up the loops
Cocky, feel like I could fill Timbaland's boots
Or maybe Dr. Dre's, but here is the rumor, since my
Premier year, I'm in your brain like a tumor
Dressed razor sharp, bringing the ruckus like a Zoomer
Jay-walk through Dillards and confuse a consumer

How so fresh? I dont know
Even though his cash is low

I play with words like they were my teammates
I earn everything with speech that cremates
Wait 'til I get my cream straight
You got a silver spoon, I got a clean plate
Left it all on the floor before the box score's crossed out
In the first round I got picked, you got knocked out
I'm into actual vocab association
You're slow, over 7.0, so basic
So I'm 007 James Bond, I be
so Sean Connery and fly like Wakabayashi
More energy than an alkaline battery
Often imitated, inundated with flattery
You only live twice so I gotta spit nice
Shaking and stirring and skating on thin ice
Snapping off the vodka, bouncer yelling 'bounce quick son'
Rushing out the door to the getaway Vespa

I prefer the 1967 myself
I got it all on my shelf
Call it 'hold up' like a belt
Its MICL