The Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show on WKCR October 28, 1993

Niggas who flow like the Atlantic will sink like the Titanic

Since birth, I was thinkin' too fast

My first beef was with the doctor when he smacked me on my ass

The trigger man, I'm crazy like Sam

My skill's so ill like a white chick with a suntan

Check it out now

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars

Three for Alize, niggas deceased or behind bars

I rap divine, God, check the prognosis: is it real or showbiz?

My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses

Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real

A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja

Here's my basis: my razor embraces many faces

Your telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces

Peoples are petro, dramatic, automatic 44 I let blow

And back down po-po when I'm vexed, so

My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank

I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank

Pumpin' for somethin', some'll prosper, some fail

Judges hangin' niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales

My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails

I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats

But, chill! bless the microphone and say peace

So, Sudan, take the microphone in your hand

Kick the flim flam

So, check it out

I'm gonna give a strong shout-out, this is to my man Will

A little somethin' I done wrote up for my man Will

It goes somethin' like this, it's called Rock-a-bye Homeboy

No doubt, no doubt check it out

Queensbridge, when will the drama ever cease?

I'd like to say peace, Willie, and rest in peace

A cool brother who's all about justice

I still can't understand how he left us

Well he's gone and life goes on, you know

We had a crew, but one by one we go

Memories of his face that was full of joy

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye homeboy

Reminiscin' with the brothers standin' on the block

Never talked a lot, never was a big shot

It's so hard to say goodbye, the sad song

And damn, I can't believe my man's gone

Diggin' back in the days when we used to laugh

Now its a memory that's haunted from the past

Poor Willy, its a shame how the ghetto got him

And word is bond - I wanna cry when I think about him

Three bullets to his back on his own block

Not a way to go, killed by the buckshot

Queensbridge, wake and up and smell the air

And stop killin' like a villain, like you don't care

Remember Willie and the times we had with joy?

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy

Quensbridge style! Rock-a, Rock-a bye

My skills are ill like the prez with a plan

My brothers run from Sudan then the Ku-Klux-Klan

Like a kamikaze, Saddam Hussein then won

Feel the buns of a nun, put tricks for funds and chill (Wooo-ooooh)

I spill a verse so you can understand

I kill rappers off quicker than a motherfuckin' Mic Man

And when it comes to a battle, I stand out tall

Like the man who played the man on The White Shadow

One two, one two

What you gonna do when the flavour's comin' after you?

Grand Wizard, take my side

Grab the microphone and I'mma rock it up like

To my man Jungle, dwellin' in the jungle

Where must we go? Where must we wander?

Deep out the skies come the MC Nas

Not to surprise, but to civilize

All the dumb men wanderin' around the streets

Listenin' to a nigga rappin' on fly beats

I just kick the mad Phillie style

Get buckwild 'cause you know my style

I could run a word, kick it to a herd

Make 'em turn into a rich man, increase the plan

The master plan, yo, I'm buggin' out

'Cause the weed got me buggin', plus the Guinness Stout

Grand Wizard, yo, you my physical

Why don't you mic the make, make the microphone miserable?

It's the G, the G, the G, the G, the Wiz

You know that our culture's gone get theirs

I got my man Nasty on the side of me

My man Six-Nine, you know we're not hidin', G