Champion...

(Ali, the baddest muthafucka there ever) I'm chokin' players like I'm Bob Knight, choke the coaches like I'm Spreewell They bowin' to the 'Sayers till they knees swell I shake the game up worse than Single White Females Walkin' to they car alone flashin' three bills These little kids are talkin' 'bout how little I know Boy, I grab a mic and rock you like your Triple 5 Soul With a civilized flow, but if you say my name I'm like Beetlejuice Dice you up and slap you till your teeth are loose I've seen the noose and will not get lynched by the industry Nor will I have a A and R pimpin' me stickin' his thing in me I'd sing for free for some years if it's clear to me That if I'm there for my team they're there for me For real, I be diligently killin' the soliloquies Of these millipedes that try to pass themselves off as ill emcees I weave a web of words so intricately That the English dictionary lacks an adjective to fit me If he want my album tell him not to fuck with A-T-A-K He was hatin' and Slug told the bitch to send my tapes back And if I lose my voice then instead of sayin' raps I start paintin' facts on the wall with hot crayola crayon wax [Chorus: x2] You're now rockin' with the champion You know you're in a war that can't be won You need to stop and understand me, son 'Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some I wasn't lyin' 'bout them muthafuckin' hairy hands Well how you think I tear a man till he can barely stand? I share the land with hustlers hollerin' my chorus back I'll do anything for the cats that show support like that When I battle they hold my back, y'all most be smokin' crack Eyes are screamin', "I ain't supposed to rap," come on, you know you're whack These Minnesota cats touch down in places where it's dormant at Bring they muthafuckin' trophies back I'm like big up my man Optimus Prime I'm like what the fuck do rappers got in they mind? I might jump on the stage and start hollerin' rhymes Maybe bend your back around and make you swallow your spine 'Cause it's clear you ain't seen no one this tight in years When I sing I can bring Brian McKnight to tears I have to consume, Ali capture a room And before my son was born I made him dance in the womb Emcees put up your titles, I be grabbin' em soon Them faggots are doomed, worse than breathing hazardous fumes Like (There it is) Yes, now let the magic resume Biatch [Chorus: x2]