Mastered Craftsman - Percee P

I spit at you like a 9 milli do

Feel and kill a crew

When syllables connect like umbilical cords

Leave frauds in critical, Lord, it’s pitiful

Better tell 'em I’m lethal

Burn his weak crew and all his people

Flows eat through his brain

You can see and reach through his cerebellum

Hurt a fake, when I serve a plate, no one regurgitates

Every word I state rips through bones and vertebrae

Increasing the murder rate

My fans are placed in rehab

My grammar’s laced with more shit than sanitation

Every man is facing contamination

Heed advice, Percee P is nice

Coming back to lead us twice like Jesus Christ

Was my flow to blow?

Now all you need is ice

Got my hands traced and a big fan base

From every land race

Since this man laced tracks way back

And never seen my damn face

One of a kind

Bright like the sun when it shines

When it come to my rhymes

If you dumb in the mind, don’t sing none of my lines

Hit cities quick, like pretty chicks

Perce ain’t no idiot, hit fifty six

Get with me, shit, that’s one hundred twelve titties licked

Count 'em

Ratta tatta, like a gat I’ll shoot data at you bladder

So scatter, cause I splatter brain matter just for chatter

Hope you run, displays are like switch-blades with AIDS

I get paid, my shit played more than kids crave Pokemon

Rap deacon from that region that got acts even with gats

Leaving the game and fame behind like Cat Stevens

Inspired pros, retired foes

Perce ain’t liable, tryin' to blow requires dough

People die at shows tryin' to bust my rapid fire flows

Manipulate rhymes, liquidate and rip a break, bitch get a whip and grapes

I’ll lick the plate and them things those strippers shake

In fact listen, «G», cats dissin' P go back missin' teeth

Acts wish to be like me — a part of black and rap history