Well, I'm known to wreck a mic like a prince, so all hail
To the raw deal on a scale, your style's frail
I don't believe I can fail, 'cause I'm headstrong
You're trackin' me, plus jackin' me knowin' that you're dead wrong

I got a tec for those that wanna step
You're ghost, 'cause since you're playin' me close
You're gettin' checked
And I can't conceive a better way to do it
So when you're in my comp

Get ready to be stomped, there's nothin' to it
'Cause I got piles of wicked styles and files of tracks
I get wild with a South Bronx style of rap
So you think you got rap sewn happily?

How's that? You couldn't sow shirts in a factory
You're what I label as a hip-hop hypocrite
You smile in my face, behind my back, runnin' off with lip
But I got somethin' to kill that though
I'm a real rap pro, bad bro, so now you know

The TR 808
Straight, straight from the Bronx

Now, back to the scene of the crime
I was taught to bust a nine
At any and all who's outta line
Yo, that's the way I was shown how to hold my own
Until I found other ways on the microphone

I used to see so many out on the ave die
Strung high, playin' a game, and that's why
So many up in the Bronx, they got done
For livin' a lifestyle of crime like it was fun

But now I'm hittin' ya hard and pullin' the cards
Of those that wanna act a fool, they got schooled
And got caught with a right to the mug
It wasn't enough, 'cause they wanted to bug and caught a slug

And got they bodies just laid to rest
'Cause in the streets, you gotta get all you can, and no less
The first minute you do, you get bucked
So you and your crew better duck
When you step into the Bronx

The TR 808
Straight, straight from the Bronx

Check it, I wanna take this time
To send this out to my man Dino
And to my man Scott-La-Rock
'Cause if it wasn't for them

I wouldn't be here today, but since I'm here
I'ma continue to make funky music for my brothers
You know what I'm sayin?
I'm outta here, peace