Like a fire that was lit before the Plaugue took over Europe-
I'm doing overtime with rhymes while your hut's stuck in a rut-
Ten years ago nobody ever thought I'd make it this far-
Looking back I laugh as I drop ash from my cigar-
The Scriptures had it right when it said the Devil would be well liked-
It's evil what passes for hip-hop, but still these charts are blazing new heights-
Think you can call yourself a "G" because you're strapped with a Glock and a pair of new Nikes?
Hit the lights, I hit the stage with an urge to fight and a bottle of Mike's-
I feel no heart inside your music, every line is empty-
To bag up all that garbage, I suggest some Hefty, Hefty, Hefty-
Just fall in line behind the wind, you're blind why aren't you swift?
So uncreative, ten track albums have you running out of riffs-
You draw a gun to start a fight, I swing a sword like Lion-O-
Inside my mind where Rhymes are born, is like a den where mighty Lions go-
Eventually your bank accounts will shrink, mine will get bigger-
I have the talent to call it rap without using words that sound like"Triggah"-
But now these Lion Rhymes are in th game, on my quest for Glory and Fame-
I think it's time the posers get consumed inside my Flame.