Back up on dat ass,
Back to put rappers on one knee like they bout to run 100 meter dash,
Bow down to greatness, before I get pissed and run up in the stands like the Indiana Pacers,
Covered all my bases, straight, no chasers,
Diamonds on my chain look like my necks full of glacers,
Titanic flow, Titanic dough, women on my nuts like Where da Titanic go?
I been scourin da earth, makin my fans catch da holy ghost at my shows like ya grandma at church,
And the fat lady singin, its ova for you rappers,
Cant none of yall bust your just sacs full of semen,
And I got da women screamin, and they could catch my balls on any given sunday like my names Willy Beaman,
Or LL Cool, so if ya boyfriend thinks your loyal to his ass then hes a motherfuckin fool,
Got jewels on my pinky, jewels on my wrist
Iconic status and his name is Ludacris,
Bitch please, you messin with some real O.Gs,
With million dolla whips dat I ship from overseas,
Got a pocket full of Gz, and the inconvenient truth is that the ozone is back cause I been smokin all da trees,
The globe is warmin up when we fire up the blunt,
And put it in the air like Evil Knievel stunts,
Wat you want from me? I got pistols for da haters,
Ya fam will be in black like the playin for da Raiders,
And ya music isnt favored, and DJs they neva bring it back like when you go and borrow somethin from ya neighbor,
Like a cup full of sugar, a rope full of salt,
The name of my car insurance is YO fuckIN FAULT,
And if you sittin on chrome, Ill call up my boys and have you stripped of ya medals like Marion Jones, nigga…
Back up on da scene, back to put a nail in these rappers coffins I got the hammer in my jeans,
Call me Mr.Fixit, barrel hotter than a fresh batch of home-made buttermilk biscuits,
A-tisket, a-tasket, a custom-made casket,
Luda leaves them trouters stretched out like gymnastics,
And acrobatics Im superstar status, the mouth of the South like gangsta grillz you bastard,
The international traveler, and I may not be much to you but Im the sht out in Africa,
So put ya fist up, even the statue of liberty lit a flame for the way that I lit my wrist up,
You cant compete with me, I got em stuck like I made a thousand rappers put shackles on they feet with me,
And then I broke free, Ill let em loose when Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston become drug-free,
Im the baddest mother shut it like Shaft was, leavin rappers with headaches like bad drugs,
They shoulda warned ya, you got defeated by the heat but, eh, well just say we Alonzo Mournd ya,
So Cater coroner, Ill show up to yo funeral with some gators like Im fresh outta Florida,
Call me the swamp thing, yall headed in the wrong direction like you hit the subway and caught the wrong train,
So dont fk with it, Im sendin lyrical bullets right at ya dome fk niggaz betta duck with it,
Or else you stuck with it,
Youll get stalked so bad youll leava da scene thinkin eight Young Bucks did it,
But not in Cashville, you lost yo feelin like comin down off X chasin effects of yo last pill,
You fuckin Daffy Dill, Yous a Daffy Duck,
And Im the undefeated champ, yall niggas suck!
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