The Lesson

Lyrically versatile, my rap definition is wild

I wrote graffiti as a juvenile

Rested on Duce Tre, and used to boost gray Kangols

With five-hundred fifty-five, souls from the streets

Of the Illadelphi-ada can sing, for monetary gain

Niggas is slain on the train, it's homicide

For wealth, stealth missions for crack, in the alleyways

Where niggas get grazed in the back from stray shots

Clips with hollow tips, for your spine

Or either remain calm, catch a rhyme, to your mind

Niggas you know my style, I run a-motherfuckin' rap-muck

With Malik in a U-Haul truck, I stand five

For seven in command, of the party and scam like Uncle Sam

I'm never caught up in the glass eye, of your action cam

Cause I'm down low, artistic exquisite rap pro, that get the dough

It's the Philly borough dread thoroughbred for dolo

I bag solo, like a nigga that boost Polo

Steppin through the corridors, of metaphors

Lookin over my left shoulder, the mic still feel colder than before

With this jazz shit I hit your jaw

Dice Raw, get up on the mic, my young boy

I be the nigga blowin up the spot on tour

Surely real to the core, old school, like eighty-four

I never die, raps 'til my lungs collapse

Then relax, until my knack for tracks, bring it back

On time, when I rhyme my rep remain

Either go against the grain or your ass is found slain

I overcome, niggas want styles then I throw you some

Show you some, get on the mic and take it over son

Dice Raw (Dice Raw) the motherfuckin' Wild Noid

(Get on the mic) Get on the mic and perpetrate in this void

I leave niggas missin in action like the dads in the projects

My style like a nomad, travel round and catch wreck

I'm ill versatile with the skill no more

Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw

Got to know the real meanin of the ill shit, kid

I do mad damage but never will catch a bid

With my knapsack, full of ill shit, that I just boosted

From the corner store when I let loose more, flavor that's mean

Rippin heads off from the scenes

Niggas didn't play like Jeru in "Come Clean"

I beat down on they heads like drum machines

Or 808's cause my style flows out great

And super spec-tac, with all the raw rap

Pull a metal chair out my knapsack, across your back

Kuh-crack, now do you feel the pain

Of course I guess you're believin that I'm insane

When I'm taggin my name, up on the train

I got so much pride, I got so much soul

With lyrics hot, to make niggas stop drop and roll

Now, check me out, one time, for your ass

My style's equivalent, of an AIDS infected Glock blast

Niggas know my style plus they know they want more

Props from Mt. Vernon, to Mt. Rushmore

Okay kid, you know my style is buckwild literature

That you could never get when I'm stickin you particular

Flavor that you want, I sit back and smoke a fat blunt

In class, teachers can kiss my ass

I'm twice, dice riggady raw, never take a bad fall

Smack your head up against the wall, like playin handball

My style's ill, I slam like Hulk Hogan

Dice Raw written on my arm, niggas know my slogan

While I breathe your last breath, niggas better watch they step

Fat bull catch wreck, ill drops to keep you in check

With the illafied beats and hard rhymes

Niggas know my style, when I go the whole nine

I beat down punks, cut em up into fruit chunks

Like fruit salad, my style smooth like Malik

Blunts are what you want if you got beef then come get it

If you don't well then forget it, my rap style's exquisite

I'm raw daddy, like niggas with no Trojans

On the stage when I'm rhymin gots to keep my composure

Where I'm from it's like a whole different world

Hop on a train honey dip and I'mma snatch your smurfs

Most corrupt motherfucker in the tenth grade

Juvenile course judgment can't could not fade

Don't ask me honey I'm not the one for stressin

If you wanna know better ask Brother? question

Cause he know the time like, I know the time

When I grab the microphone it's like, summertime

Lay back, to recline in my La-Z-Boy chair

Dice Raw the Wild Noid I'm the fuck up outta here