This is a song about "The rhyme"

I'm worldwide i'm certified, pop a bottle my cali dime

Everyday, all the time, this shit cant be explained through a rhyme,

That the people who can't earn a dime can't have a rhyme,

Quick to holla at a hoochie with the same line

I wrote the rhyme that broke the bull's back,

I can't hold back, it's time to attack jack

Wolf gang make a white pregnant bitch wan' abort

How the rhyme forces the source for thoughts that's lost

Now the passion from the booth comes alive in a rhyme,

Then, prepare to have the eargasm of a lifetime

When the rhyme itself starts getting old

This shit would leave rosetta stoned

Someone call the medics, my rhyme is deadly

You just servin yourself, go pull up to pump three

That's food for thought you muthafuckas can do the dishes

I rhyme the quickest, my rhymes are the sickness,