[Intro]
“A pen, this is a class four grenade”
“Three clicks arm the four second fuse”
“Another three disarms it”
“How long did you say the fuse was”
“Oh, grow up, 007”
“They always said the pen was mightier than the sword”
“Thanks to me, they were right”
[Verse 1: Complete]
I was born with a license to slaughter the rhymers who like perform in disguises
I find ‘em resortin’ to lies, ‘cause the audience buys it
In the fortress where I live, there’s no shortage of spy shit
Or important supplies which support my rеcording devices
I’m the lord of thе cyphers, plus I’m groovy and hot
The fuckin’ reason those Austin Power movies were shot
‘Cause I’m shagadelic, I want that shaggy feller, that fag’s pathetic
And I tell ya Scooby Doo’s just a dubious dog
Groupies will flock when the ink I place on my pad is dry
I am described as a wicked patient and placid guy
Till I grab a mic on a mission made for assassin spies
Why’s my shit the greatest? That information is classified
[?] when I make a hot verse
All these rappers start cryin’ like they some toddlers
And I could say a lot worse, but babies are like martinis, they should be shaken, not stirred
“A pen, this is a class four grenade”
“Three clicks arm the four second fuse”
“Another three disarms it”
“How long did you say the fuse was”
“Oh, grow up, 007”
“They always said the pen was mightier than the sword”
“Thanks to me, they were right”
[Verse 1: Complete]
I was born with a license to slaughter the rhymers who like perform in disguises
I find ‘em resortin’ to lies, ‘cause the audience buys it
In the fortress where I live, there’s no shortage of spy shit
Or important supplies which support my rеcording devices
I’m the lord of thе cyphers, plus I’m groovy and hot
The fuckin’ reason those Austin Power movies were shot
‘Cause I’m shagadelic, I want that shaggy feller, that fag’s pathetic
And I tell ya Scooby Doo’s just a dubious dog
Groupies will flock when the ink I place on my pad is dry
I am described as a wicked patient and placid guy
Till I grab a mic on a mission made for assassin spies
Why’s my shit the greatest? That information is classified
[?] when I make a hot verse
All these rappers start cryin’ like they some toddlers
And I could say a lot worse, but babies are like martinis, they should be shaken, not stirred
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