Brass Knuckles

[Verse 1: Black Thought] I got the planet by the birth strings, frees what you giving me First things first, a-yo, you curse like a Kennedy My team put weak emcees out of they misery Stacking more bread and cheese than little Italy Something you could riddle me, who illest in the industry I ain't mean to start it, but a bullet finna finish it I ain't trying to hit a bystander when they innocent Be looking out for hova, they the witnesses My certificate say I'm the magnificent Motivational speaker, that's where the bad bitches is Everybody's a copy and I'm a tad different Steady bring the classic twist until you sick of this And then you shake when your vision all shivery Face getting quivery, your eyes all jittery Praying to your God, like please lord deliver me Tariq about to take me out of the game, now isn't he I'm obsessed like the niggas on A&E Never try to test, don't you ever think of playing me To protect yourself, you best think of paying me I'm an O.G. and ain't shit you can say to me [Verse 2: Dice Raw] Niggas talk about shooting, getting money, ducking sirens And they never spent one second with the lions I hear them rap for a second, I can tell they lyin' With every lie you tell, you get closer to dyin' Dying out, [playing?] out, name your top 25 alive Go get em' when I start spitting lay them out I ain't the best though, I must confess It's a lot of little niggas running around that sound fresh But they ain't got a fucking clue about success The Beamers, the Jags, the Benzes, the Porches Clans wanna' torch us, or [pork?] us like crosses I cut the fucking head off of any nigga that cross us And put me up there with the world's greatest authors You niggas take orders, my niggas take borders We playing dollars, you playing with quarters You playing with fire, we playing with daughters [Verse 3: Truck North] A public service announcement from the earth-quakin' Record breaking, money making and the money taking He lied and said he live, but money faking I cooked a sucker up fast, North easy bake 'em Uh, the hall of fame is a mansion That you are now privy to the amongst champions Should be a rolling stone the way he romanced it Chicks bring homemade gifts like it's Kwanzaa My stanzas make them go bananas And my grammar could pull your grandma Pardon his manners, turn on the cameras Hallway clutter with knives, and old hammers Uh, so let's get it started up in this Cut[?] [?] but still ain't got enough of this Still lock your chick down like a last call [A nigga brick top by the way he get snatched?] [Verse 4: STS] It just sounds so complex like the media network The flow is effortless, I ain't no media expert Sugar in the house, I put the heat to your best verse Been hungry for a quotable, I beat them with excerpts The leaf hit my chest first, I need to be blessed first She going downtown and she don't need to get dressed first A pair of 23's, dungarees and a sweatshirt I'm bobbin' to the beat while she proceeds with a neck jerk The money making, honey taking, hope she give head first A nightmare walking, find me where the threat lurk A psychopath talking, come see where the devil work My soul is in the pen, and I ain't speaking about Leavenworth This shit get a fella' hurt, them verses are stellar work Get that niggas' bitches, Sugar Slim [--how yellow jerk?] Roll up an L of purp, get on my level first This is hip hop at it's finest, nigga word up to Red Alert