(Verse I)
You see success is a requisite, failure ain’t an option on the ropes I’m Ali when him and Foreman were boxing/no referees to the fans they coulda seen that these verse that I sewn, seam so effortlessly/true indeed I coulda fooled a blind eye, what if I told that this verse was rewritten a thousand times, fuckin’ peons/you eons away from my shine, bringing a spark like Rodimus Prime, not Optimus, I’m opted to optimize and ostracize predictable lines/I’m transforming, I can transform ya, been a transformer way before Chris Brown had a warrant or Swizz Beatz was divorcin’/it’s boring standing in a room full of bitches like an occultic driven Morman/lack of performance and ‘Ye said it’s appalling, Wayne and Jay got New Orleans and Jay got New York, but when is Jay really touring?/yeah the question is rhetoric, but the feeling’s so euphoric, you gotta love it…

(Verse II)
Forget that wack shit, they want that “Pakinamac” in the back of the Ac or that Southernplayacadillac shit/they want that Afrika Bambaataa, Clive Campbell, Sedgwick Ave., turntable, Melle, Grandmaster Flash shit/no yappin’ they want real rapping and a brand new outfit but I’m so old fashioned/time to bring back that mattress, Radio Raheem, boom box, Beat Street, graffiti taggin’/forget that wack shit, they want that “Pakinamac” in the back of the Ac or that Southernplayacadillac shit/they want that Afrika Bambaataa, Clive Campbell, Sedgwick Ave., turntable, Melle, Grandmaster Flash shit/no yappin’ they want real rapping and a brand new outfit but I’m so old fashioned/I’mma bring back that mattress, Radio Raheem, boom box, Beat Street, graffiti taggin’/New York City…

(Verse III)
And I’m reppin’ for my town, from the penthouse settlements down to the gentrified, tattered down, Bedstuy sub-standard residence/the bar been raised I’m setting the new precedent/I’m the only one here still relevant, street and intelligent/catch me at a charity event fundraising, not even for the benefits, I’m working in my city I should be the borough president/Brooknam, sippin’ on… rosé’s forever, I play the crib when it’s knit weather/the Ralph Lauren ’94 wool stitch sweater/or the Coogi under the collar button down leather, BKNY, I do it for them four letters/usually seen in a Benzo with tinted windows, laughing, blasting Nas Stillmatic intro, “blood of a slave, heart of a king”/it’s alarmin’ ya, Versace frames covering my corneas, I’m warning ya/I’m warning ya, I’m not one to be fucked with, I’m a real rhymer, ya’ll just some over dramatized motion flick hip-hop version of Bruckheimer/Jerry that is, I’ll bury you kids, like it’s Children of the Corn, I Pet Cemetery dogs, letting off artillery with military force, fuck shooting strip ‘em naked, cover ‘em in tar, then feather ‘em and parade ‘em down the steps of City Hall/that’s the ultimate punishment for being a fraud, it’s like New York went soft, Flex gotta spin this cause Enuff had enough with the garbage we submitting/my city’s seen different, you know we in a rut when Diddy, LA and Russ ain’t enthused for the business/labels going broke and all our venues are vacant, A&R’s pressing for talent losing their patience/every other region been dominating our stations cuz New York ain’t feeling what New York’s been making/this is revolution era, war against terror, war against America federations and all etceteras, no Farrakhan’s, I’m more like Che Guevara, John Lennon, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, Trench Wailer, Goodfella, Russian mob, cartel, drug dealers, Super Bad, Greg Mattola, Jonah Hill, Mike Cera, no error, no typo’s with flows I’m Michael from the Bulls you Russell’s should know better, I’m that nigga…Poe!/shout out to Jay Electronica, fuck that, shout out to Jay Electronica the whole Magnolia/all wards New Orleans, peace Soulja Slim, we both did Exhibit’s great minds think alike then/shout out to Just Blaze, Fort Knocks and New Jeruz/student of the game, I give credit where credit’s due/hip-hop is a nation, breaking Jim Crow separation this is my closing statement…