Texty: Lost Secret. Queens Hall Of Science. You Suck.

[Intro: Ironfist Pillage sample]
You see, You Suck, your crew is totally lame
I just kicked your ass with a bucket

[G-Clef Da Mad Komposa:]
And I don't make beats for humans
But I'll celebrate ya deathday for free
I'm unaffected by ya spells and all that weak hypnosis bullshit
I've been sent here to settle all acounts period
You weak emcees, do you really take music for a game?
Just a little green or some fame?
Welcome to the universe, it's time to feel the pain
Face reality, I don't even subscribe to your beliefs never mind ya magazine
You puny mortal substance is futile
Ya world is double extra small, it's gonna fall
While you busy reading The Source, I'm one with the force
Hello, my name is Toth, I'm pleased to beat ya
Descended from the sky, to try to help pathetic creatures
You're living proof that wack emcees are alive
But still you don't exist and when I say it you get pissed
Don't' get angry, remember Lost Secret's letting you live
But when ya time is up don't be looking for forgive-ness
I make a list of all the things you can't do to me
And then outrage ya fams when it's me reading ya eulogy
See? What's the difference between me and you?
The truth can kill a liar, but with me bullets travel thru

[Chorus: G-Clef Da Mad Komposa]
You suck, we rule, you're wack, we're cool
You suck, we rule, you're wack, we're cool
You suck, we rule, you're wack, we're cool
You suck, we rule, you're wack, we're cool

[Archangel Metatron:]
I write rhymes for mortal, physical form I metamorphose
Aimin' at the head of you zombies, so bring some more foes
You all hoes, dead presidents be your pimps
Who would you be, without cars, ice, 2 balls and a dick
Would you exist? Nah and you ain't still
You fake with' fake shit, this rhymes makes you real
As for me, I'm livin' lavish, ballin' with knowledge
I gots to have it, see me passin' by ya clubs laughin'
What a shame, but I keeps it movin'
Mechizedek be showin', as Metatron be provin'
You losin', against the force of the rising sun
I do what ya God said in Luke 12:51
So spread out, I'm like a real Spanish nigga from Corona
But who gives a fuck? No one
I know some, but I'm a mystery to many
Next time you write a rhyme, act like you met me

[Chorus]

[G-Clef Da Mad Komposa (Archangel Metatron):]
I be shooting solar flares at your hair
(Eat ya poridge, kill Goldielocks and murder the three bears)
Like I care? Y'all niggaz is cold markin' time
(I'm cold marking space, fuck the human race)
Race for the cure (shut the fuck up, this the voice of Jesus)
For you there is no salvation (Pupil dialation, I'm pointing needles at ya iris)
Whether ya Irish, Italian, or Polish
(It doesn't matter, in this universe you smellin' like you homeless)
I'm leaving all you fake rappers poemless

[Chorus]