Chorus 4X
  "One, two, yeah and you don't stop"
  "One, two, huh and you don't stop"
  
  "Ah check it out"
  
  [O.C.]
  Style like somethin the microphone fiend would spark
  Sort of reminiscing, of how it used to go down in the parks
  Equipment ropped off, you can hear the vagas echo for miles and breath
  Bass pounds the asphalt
  Thunder vibration shake like a tremble from a earthquake and
  O.C. a classic in the making, mental make thoughts
  My physical form words
  Hot in my mouth like a joust, no doubt
  Some a phenomenon, mic technician, electrician
  Spit the mic down the middle like an el producto
  And throughout the resin, then asapoltin this shit
  Gift to gather a rhyme, make rap a staired son
  The way I do this, switch up the fluid
  So smooth you wanna persuie it
  I'm raw like underground sewage you
  This shit for insight? Well I'm back, never was gone
  What I right, be tighter than pin stripes
  Born by mob boss, my flause in affect on the mic
  Keep it tight, with out a fight is raw, it's only right
  
  [sample from live event]
  I know it's hot, we hot too
  You ready to throw down, we ready to have a party
  So if ya ready to have a party, make some noise!
  
  [O.C.]
  Any mic I hold it in the grip of my palm
  I wave it over the crowd
  Dictatin shit like Genghis Khan
  Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic schoolin
  Bringin samatics to this rap shit
  Bonafied, mic set you can't see me on it
  Master the art, so now I just flaunt it
  Born to live, a life and die until then
  Imma keep on writin the slick rhymes with the pen
  Take the cherry from a tree, like a virgin havin innocence
  Bust my nuts, bringin rhymes to live like Genesis
  But ritical renaissance
  In death there's a flautless
  Tearin shit up when it comes to me pickin up a cordless
  One of New York's finest, on this trip I co-incide with B Minus
  Bringin out the best in me, we formulatin like a recipe
  What I emplore, will show nuff disto my presence
  Then I'm divine like the seven
  Keepin it tight cuz what safice is raw nigga, it's only right
  
  Chorus 4X
  
  [O.C.]
  Microphone's I melt down, slap crowns, push em out of bounds
  Crush ya crowd, as I lay my third verse down
  Because, this is what I want, to gain control of that position
  It's only right, that I follow thru compition
  Be warning me, homocide rhymes or mad rounds
  To get flass or pencil hurt, battin me down
  Contents flex text expert, since my born date
  5/13/71 like a stick bin, injection
  Inside ya blood stream, digest what I manifest
  O.C., you best by me, others are mediocre like
  I slam the earth like a meteor right
  Cuz I'mma take mine, leavin you face down in the puddle
  Blow up like a shuttle, when I give you my rebuttle
  Frame of mind, across state lines
  Await the taste, me like fine wines from Avidian
  For those who wanna select cyphers to cyphers stash
  Straight up, I don't rhyme for niggas
  I prove myself, stylin for years on the mic
  On another level of being, what's the B Minus? It's only right
  
  Chorus 4X