[Ikon the Verbal Hologram]
yeah
You frontin' style to me
it's war when the beat drop
just anotha mothafucka gonna see pac
you the type that'll run when the heat pop
the type that'll hide a gun when he see cops
but not me, I'll aim a thirty-eight at the crown

show up the next day at the wake and frown
yeah, and then I'll laugh at the widow
then my man stoupe blast through the window
foul when I was young but I survived karma
drop bombs like a b-25 on ya
yeah, it's vietnam in the trenches
just keep my seat warm on the benches
I run with wild puerto ricans that hit L's
and study classical verses by *Big L*
we came up in the game at the same time
and read one-hundred-fifty rappers with the same rhyme

yeah, yeah, uh huh

(break: when I touch the microphone I usually rock it...)

I'm a mothafuckin baboon
hit you with thirty seven stab wounds
bury your body deep in earth inside a black tomb
you scared of the rain, you fear weather
I'm hardcore like pall-bearer in sheer terror
I'll be ready for war with suede timbs on
y'all ain't ready to brawl until Vin's gone
won't stop till you dead in hell
Vinnie Paz, mega-child daddy (eh-grendel?)
this bread we fail, yeah, because the beast in all this
I was rockin' Diadoras while you was