Sealed Indictment.

C. 2001 My beats, my beats. They sound mad sweet. Funkier than your feet in July, All y'all n*ggas can't deny That I'm the King of Rhymes Committin' mad crimes. For assault, I'm wanted in 5 states I'm more crooked than Andrea Yates. Drown you in a bath. Algebra and Geometry are types of Math. Master blaster,

broken arm caster. I'm the master of spinnin rhymes and mixin' beats I'm the n*gga on the corner runnin' these streets. Shoot you in the head. Plow plow, n*igga, now you dead. Run you over with a moped. I held up a liquor store, got $800. Any of my n*ggas hear me, holla! Don't ask, folks. I'm a prophet. I'll never do this again.