Mr. Paul, Paul the Shub, the best time for you to come check me would be Saturday at the station. That'd be a good time, then I get paid on Saturday. I can give you half of what you owe, and then give you the other half the following week. Alright, my cell phone, 516-888-8166. Alright, peace. Flatbush Barn, mingled with the children of the Karns. Before I got in the game, eight years before, lost in the storm. Remember St. James, Gates and Green? Odd hurdle. Got a few chips relocated to Waverly and Myrtle. Model chicks at Willoughby, full to the straight, Estee Lauder. Spike Lee's up the street, grew him three mowers up the corner. Easy Moe B was being more easy on Clinton. Got my LG niggas with luggage, straight trippin'. I think Master Ace was over there on Lafayette. Daddy was in Bed-Stuy, created the Sonic of Stets. In Marcy, there was the Jazz, while Kane was on Lewis' half. I'm a bandit, man, when niggas here don't take out the trash. We don't rap for nothin', we're all about touch pads. As a youth with a foreign brow, take it in your bus pass. He's the star in Buck and Crown Heights with the smoke shop. All my niggas freezin', Bushwick with all that Spanish Cholla. After comin' from a battle, KRS-One knocked the cash. Money bought Flood Charity, got the rev run. Seen DMC comin' from E.P.'s MD. Just bought Tee, the product GMB from GNC. Hopped on the train, seen Lil' Wayne chip it. For a few minutes, he came from the hieroglyphics exhibit. Down there, help the skelter, someone buckshot. It was held at the Galleria by me or the ex of Sadat. Dr. Grey arrived too late, someone left with a scratch. One person was mace, another with a scarred face. Corrupt cops began to snoop, questin' slum villagers. The only clue they had was a Timberland, and Dad's his Dillinger. Death Squad heard nothin', Royce didn't talk, described the gunman. Five-Nine on a police report, they lied, he had an alibi. Drove to Cypress Hill, where Jalil sold cannabis and ecstasy pills. When the cops rolled up, doors locked, heads bled. Someone said, Larry, you shot up your spot. Mr. Dan Prez appointed to Swap House. Appointed V-12, saw the cops. Larry's indeed a shell, sped like V-12s. Jake's chafed, lost him, and they tried to get details. They saw a V-Roc, he quickly answered, you didn't see L. In Larry's crib, found a safe, no key to the locks. Opened it, was a bomb, three seconds left on the clock. So there you go, sound like someone you know. Got you thinkin' he gon' hook you up and help you blow. But then you don't, so now you're broke. Spend time in the studio, look so you don't. You feelin' low, take any deal they throw. Overcooked at events, then it's them you owe. Without a hot song, then you can't do a show. In his business, got the talent, but it's him you owe. The Super-L is the name, still in the game. The same biz, what's his face? Told y'all what the name of the game is. Downtown on the skip stop, crisp new tin. Damage on my corns like flip flops, and who's him? Rap cats act brave as hell. Get on the mic and turn gangsta on some men. Yeah, she like Dave Chappelle. More like Screech, saved by the bell. Black man on some of my mans, man, mans, man. And then there's Jackman. Then they get on the first year later. Get their first hater, their first pair of gators. To the perpetrators, he's the unknown comic. He spit on the microphone in chunks that don't vomit. It's just a shame. Bust this aim. Lust for fame, crush this frame. Like, what's his name? And what's him a-callin'? Remind him of mini-me. With mini-Masayuchi from Hakuchi to Rasputin. He like 13th Earthlings. Cool hair and loop. Who drop jewel and influence the youth like puke. All he do is puke, and he in need of a speedy line. He said, every rhyme, I master mine. Like C.D. Vine, you greedy swine. Don't eat pork. In the streets of New York, you're out of place like Mark. From Ork, York. Pour a pop of cork. Drop me in Newark Airport. I'm supposed to meet Bjork. But what's all the fuss about? Hush up your big mouth. So I sent her out to see Grim to bust him out the big house. Yup, see that's how rumors get started. A certified older cat who don't get carted. Don't go by the rhyme on demand. And get money as if he had time on his hands. And when he not in the lab doin' flows and vocals. He out in the streets throwin' bows with the locals. Never underestimate the next master. She could be way far worse than a whole jar of Starburst. Mmm, he keeps those by the pound low. MC's run from current location like Download. I think it's rather spectacular how they come out their neck bright and sunk like Dracula. In case you just tuned in, once again we're here with a super villain known as Hip Hop's Gunga Din.