CHALLENGER'S RAP

• I used to work in a dishroom, and if sorting was a sport
• I could clean plates at a mean pace and sort forty forks when short of support
• but your wax will not crack platinum is spite of you asking them
• to stack it to the maximum >if it's whack and dumb,
• but the fact is I'm >sleeping under the bridges,
• where they're giving guns to the kidzez
• still on my solo project
• bummin' around the country with some hobo logic
• Mofo's can act mojo, but they make no show on it
• This is not the Master I asked for...
• or else that bastard's late, so I masturbate...
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• White folk say it don't rhyme, - I say that it does,
• cause rhyming's what it is and not the way it was.
• And when I freestyle, even the trees smile
• Then I go a capella to stop a killer
• My spoken dopeness got oceans open
• no flow is soulless but dull and hopeless
• is the rap that at least half are handing to me
• Their stubborn buttz are nuts I crack manually
• I stand for great, but if you plan debate
• I'm happy to plan your fate for a standard rate