When i get home. compose a concerto.
Senoritas call me Mr. Habanero.
I light a philly and i put on my sombrero
so fresh, so clean, so sterile.

so old, so Streep, so Meryl.
effortless. shootin monkeys in a barrel
no gun, grab the bow and arrow.
Old School, you can call me Will Ferrell

shotgun til my livers in peril
second thought, maybe i should be careful
Organize my Konfusion like Pharoahe
or end up with no brains like the Scarecrow

so instead i fly high like a sparrow
hit the gap, hit the strait, hit the narrows
in ya jeep, in ya ford, ya camero
feel it deep in ya bones, in ya marrow




im off the
scoville scale. show and tell.
most folks is too dumb, you need mo intel
fallin off the cliff while we flow so well.
Walrus and Chronic here, we know no fail





i bring the heat home like a jalapeño
with my feet stuck in deep snow. on a creased flow
fresh cut dickies hangin down to the dunks
best to fess up quickly, hear the loudest of crunch

i got a mountain of funk thats surrounded by crop
hotter than a lava rock always flowin off the top
volcanic havoc causin panic to these soda pop
rappers, never dapper, takin snappers, this is post apoc

alyptic cryptic shipment of dipsticks claimin logistics
sippin on tid bit of syrup thats up in my system.
mixin the nutrition with lipton to keep my motor kickin.
my toga's slippin showin peppers by the squad division

hotter than the sun's surface, surfin on what's begun
mr. habanero, the pharaoh with potent puns.
beware of my apparel and barrels upon my guns.
Scorchin these important dare devils with frozen funds.