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(feat. Saukrates) "The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [Rock] Ha, Al Catraz, who that, some call him Rock Yo, one shot'll make you Jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross Playin hopscotch, I got the mach' baby Even when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a 3-80 And I hate these fakin MC's, please Flee or your temperature drop more degrees Then a five presenter dressed in a young ass jacket In the winter, wit no independent casket for this rap shit [Ruck] Behold the pale horse, I see death in your future Wit thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya Back in the days, I knew Ruck would Ruck Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox Since the death of the Delorian, I been best performin in Coliseum and stadiums, holdin the war palladiums Ain't no funny vibe from this 25 year old Ultimate MC, test me if you hold "The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4] "The-the Ultimate" Letras de canciones [Saukrates] Chemistratin street ruckus wit my nouns and verbs Hated the real muthafuckas wit a thirst for words Meditate wit me dude, alone in my own zone Come and get high, my shit's homegrown Bionic, hydroponics, I rap til I'm blue like Sonic Deliveries, monotonic, but my style's octophonic I hate to say, but you weak and your styles prosaic, man If rhymin was fightin, I be Tyson And all ya niggas better think, cuz right now ya runnin wit sphinx Cuz you're weak son, I take my time to teach one Of the meet one's, or reach one Illamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics It's never fluke yo, so don't panic You can go to any other planet, and any weather you can run But can't run forever, so whatever "The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4] "The-the Ultimate" [Saukrates] (Feelin it, ya niggas give a peep, in my manuscript) I'm the muthafuckin pimp, the microphone is my b-i-itch And you the John about to make a nigga r-i-ich Now get wit this, funk arithmetic If you outside make a sw-i-itch, and step inside the ab-y-yss Nigga come ill, don't tr-i-ip, say it again You the John about to make this nigga r-i-ich Man, my finger pump it, hard to res-i-ist Find you nitch, nigga, hold that, my trigga finger start to i-i-itch (Diggin your ditch) Yea I'm on the mound wit a butane fireball Better duck the wild p-i-itch, I'm sick wit it You will never fly, you're a ostr-i-ich Uh, be on ya back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish Bank is, bank is closed, for my skrilla for the n-n-ni, rip-rip it "The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4] "The-the Ultimate" From Letras Mania