燃える漢の魂 (Burning Men’s Soul)

Check it out
I'm in the house like carpet
And if there's too many heads in my blunt I won't spark it
I'll put it in my pocket and save it like rocket fuel
'Til everybody's gone and it's cool
Then I spark it up with my brother
His momma named him Mo, but I call him Mo' Lover
And he's more than a cover, he's a quilt
We're putting shit together like that house that John built
On the hill, 'cause this shit's gonna feel like velvet, turtle
My style fits tighter than a girdle
If ya hate it then you can just leavе it, like Beaver
But in a day or two I'll makе you a true believer in me
'Cause like the alphabet you'll see
That 'ism kicks a rhyme, not your everyday soliloquy
Like Chef Boyardee, my rhyme is truly cookin'
Peace to Matty Rich 'cause he's straight out of Brooklyn, New York
I don't eat pork or swine when I dine
I drink a cup of Kool-Aid, not a big glass of wine
Or a Henn', Heine', if you have time I'll drop rhyme again