Lyrics:
Run tell dat, the fat mans back
lost a hundred pounds to pack skill where the fat went
and I ain't have to run a milli tryin to sell that
change the diet up, eating emcees that spit wack
they less phat, can't pack what ya mans do
and I don't tote straps spitting fisticuffs in haiku
wee ooh... or maybe I mean ooh wee
half ya'll lames racking half ya brains if you heard a me
it's 3rd degree and I aint talking like I'm Dylan
I'm sick of hip hop full of hipsters wearing nylons
It's napalm... smell it in the morning
You ain't gotta love it but I'm sending up a warning
The emcee you once knew, Is dead now... because of you
I couldn't leave the game without a Change (what ya'll wanna do?)
Slept on (feel me), a pea under the mattress
ignore me all you want but I'm irritating you actors
Live and Direct inflect to catch wreck
with a mic and pen slain men to earn spect
Beast on this mic, you can feel it when it rumble
Better check ya character it's not about ya logo
Still I run dolo, not in it for self
reflect all you want you can't reach me off the shelf
Do it for the love, and coming home with the medal
it's funny watching all of ya'll lames back peddle...

Hook:
Back again, still with a mic and pen
should've never left cuz look at the state it's in
Skinny jeans and hipsters it's best ya start running
Run tell dat, a new Change is coming

Never have I seen a sicker state than what the game is in
I'm looking at ya thinking which of ya'll let the lames in
So let's begin, armed with a pad and pen
and I don't need a sword my pen bleeds when I'm pressing it
I'm stressing it, ya'll lyrically irrelevant
My style got concubines while ya'll monks stay celibate
I'm branding it, like cattle on a thousand hills
an heir to the throne so I don't chase ya little dollar bills
funny still, almost famous cuz you spit heat
but you collecting checks off the state, cuz you's a deadbeat
Respect the grind, but never respect a man
living off of welfare chasing dreams like a stan
Bump that, ya'll people can feel that
stand back cuz I'm swinging off this track with a spike bat
And get ready for the tracks I'm manhandling
stylwyld two thousand twelve, I'm panhandling