Oh Lord (Freestyle)

Primo...
(Laughs)
Bars professor...
Pete Rock, to The RZA...
To Prince Paul...
So many more...
I owe all you brothers...
For, I have mastered the art...
Of the chop...

I'm worldwide, anything else is silly, but don't get it twisted, I rep the Philly. Lock any block I stop, now really if I don't kill the cops, the cops'll kill me. 'Cause they ain't never protect & served, they got the nerve, thinkin' it's respect they deserve. Pay your fare, nigga or you're done. Don't you understand? I got a hair trigger on my gun. And, I don't pull the fifth to flash, this ain't a robbery, I don't want none of your cash. You got rare beef? You should save it. Don't make me put your brains on the muthafuckin' pavement. You better know yourself, my lyrical dick is too big, for I could blow myself, and that's called audio-fellatio, incase you didn't know...Freestyle!
You better wake the fuck up, soon. Muthafuckas don't? You gonna see my logo on the moon. All I need's five words, I'm not losin', you've been tricked, muthafucka stop snoozin'. Lets be realistic. You got questions? I'm Radio-Shack, you a fuck-stick. Just in case you missed it, I'm the livest nigga you heard, don't get it twisted...
Fuck a New World Order, I'ma brag on this mic 'bout some suckas that I left slaughtered. And, that goes way against omerta, I ain't even mean to strike, or even hurt 'ya. Murder's not my forte, though I do make it effortless, sorry I left you breath-a-less. Pick up the receiver, I'll make you a believer, old fashioned nigga, "Leave It To Beaver." You know I hate complainin' to you, "Lucy, you gotta lotta explainin' to do." Bitch, way back in the days, now you understand why I call myself Payze...Duez. Yes, you know I sing the song, every muthafuckin' single thing I do is wrong. But, I could clear your throat like Halls, you could suck my muthafuckin' balls...