[Verse 1]
My name is legendary on all blocks, spitting fireball rocks
Before they call cops had bodies in walls and crawl spots
Hammers is all c*cked
So many Makaveli mini-mes in the game, it's a f*cking outbreak of small pox
And beef is when everybody is not breathing
So body me not even
Everybody is holding and probably not squeezing
And last year n*ggas albums did more flopping then a Vlade Divac season
sh*t I'm warning them flinch and the itching trigger finger is gon start forming a clench
And you come that hot lead storm and you drenched
My flow as fury as the scorn of a b*tch
And you hot n*ggas ain't keeping sh*t warm but the bench
I'm a beast in bed, check my di*k head for triple sixes
I'll hit a fat ass from the back until it ripples vicious
Give titty nipples stitches
I'm a pimp, pus*y fall in my lap like a strip club full of clumsy crippled b*tches
[Interlude: Interviewer + Vakill]
Vakill, you just finished working on your new album, Worst Fears Confirmed
That's right
What can we expect with this album?
Basically, I stepped up my spittin'-game up, and it basically means, more fears for these garbage-ass n*ggas
[Verse 2]
They say death comes in threes, but f*ck it I'm feeling a fourth nut
Ejaculation until my scrotum shrivels and dwarfs up
From getting brain and poo-nani from two mami's
I'm tsunami with the spitting, you cartoon ass n*ggas is Toonami
Y'all faggots wish the champs lose but that ain't chips on y'all shoulders, switch your shampoos
Your cosigning gangsta sh*t you can't prove
The hood won't take ya
Y'all print model spitting, got no flow but the sh*t looks good on paper
Spit bars that will knock out whole alliances
Out cold, y'all about the be outsold and client-less
Mouths closed in silence
This fear will smoke y'all asses faster than DMX's household appliances
You got no money and mo problems you backwards Frank White
I sh*t on who you thinks nice for 'fore the eyes of the Lord can blink twice
Ain't a belt long enough to spank Christ
And ain't sh*t sweet b*tch, only suge' in my tanks knight
[Interlude: Interviewer + Vakill]
Vakill, you spent a lot of time in the studio; who are you making this records for?
Every motherf*ckin' American that think like me, do sh*t I do, and f*ck the kind of b*tches I f*ck
[Verse 3]
n*ggas asking, "When is Va' gon' bling?"
Or, "When is Vakill gon' establish himself as Chicago's king?"
Im dreaming bout a 10 Million a year gun cargo ring
And the crown dont move, it goes where I go....scene
For decades hip hop been misusing the goal
Now that b*tch about to tear up and some tissues fin' to blow
Who got issues with the flow?
You in XXL 'Step Yo Rap Game Up' section 12 issues in a row
Matter of time til my sh*t classic soon
Am I nice, how can you ask it spit burns acid wounds
And run cemeteries outta casket room, yall gassed with fumes
I go harder, wether a chrome nine or a plastic spoon
Its simple I'm flyest, spit on graves to rekindle a fire
And funeral directors is assembling choirs
No flows resemble Messiah's
n*ggas do not want it til a vest with a Superman symbols acquired, prior
[Interlude: Interviewer + Vakill]
Does lifting weights improve your ability to rap?
Hell yeah, nig', 'cause you got a lot of scrawny motherf*ckers out there, poppin' that commando sh*t, man, and ain't none of them got that fist-game—f*ck all y'all