[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Lyrically versatile, my rap definition is wild
I wrote graffiti as a juvenile
Restin' on deuce-trey and used to boost gray Kangol's
With 555 Souls from the streets of the Illadelph-iadic insane
For monetary gain, niggas is slain on the train
It's homicide for wealth, stealth missions for crack
In the alleyways where niggas get grazed in the back
From stray shots, clips with hollow tips, for your spine
Or either remain calm, catch a rhyme to your mind
Niggas, ya know my style
I run a-motherfuckin-rap-mok with Malik in a U-Haul truck
I stand 5'7", in command of the party and scam like Uncle Sam
I'm never caught up in the glass eye of your action cam 'cause I'm down low
Artistic, exquisite rap pro that get the dough
It's the Philly borough dread thoroughbred for dolo
I bag solo, like a nigga that boost Polo
Steppin' through the corridor of metaphors
Lookin' over my left shoulder, the mic still feel colder than before
With this jazz shit, I hit your jaw
Dice Raw, get up on the mic, my young poor
I be the nigga blowin' up the spot on tour
Surely real to the core, old school like '84
I never die, and raps 'til my lungs collapse
Then relax until my knack for tracks bring it back
On time, when I rhyme my rep remain
Either go against the grain or your ass is found slain
I overcome, niggas want styles, then I throw you some
Show you some, get on the mic and take it over, son
Dice Raw, the motherfuckin' Wild Noid
Get on the mic and perpetrate in this void
Lyrically versatile, my rap definition is wild
I wrote graffiti as a juvenile
Restin' on deuce-trey and used to boost gray Kangol's
With 555 Souls from the streets of the Illadelph-iadic insane
For monetary gain, niggas is slain on the train
It's homicide for wealth, stealth missions for crack
In the alleyways where niggas get grazed in the back
From stray shots, clips with hollow tips, for your spine
Or either remain calm, catch a rhyme to your mind
Niggas, ya know my style
I run a-motherfuckin-rap-mok with Malik in a U-Haul truck
I stand 5'7", in command of the party and scam like Uncle Sam
I'm never caught up in the glass eye of your action cam 'cause I'm down low
Artistic, exquisite rap pro that get the dough
It's the Philly borough dread thoroughbred for dolo
I bag solo, like a nigga that boost Polo
Steppin' through the corridor of metaphors
Lookin' over my left shoulder, the mic still feel colder than before
With this jazz shit, I hit your jaw
Dice Raw, get up on the mic, my young poor
I be the nigga blowin' up the spot on tour
Surely real to the core, old school like '84
I never die, and raps 'til my lungs collapse
Then relax until my knack for tracks bring it back
On time, when I rhyme my rep remain
Either go against the grain or your ass is found slain
I overcome, niggas want styles, then I throw you some
Show you some, get on the mic and take it over, son
Dice Raw, the motherfuckin' Wild Noid
Get on the mic and perpetrate in this void
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