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