VERSE 1
Verse 2
Now I don’t see how I could possibly
Put all this philosophy into a track, but here goes
You think you as fly as Peter Pan man,
I have all my fan’s in the stands screaming RUFIO
My bar was set so low it could make a roach trip
Now I’m fly enough that NASA has-ta ask me for tips
Like a waitress if I’m trying to skip out and dip like chips
That I stack til I get a grip
Or grip on a nine to five
And I don’t mind ballpark swine and Ramen to survive
As long as Im rhyming I’ll strive
Pursuing this music, cause everything I do seems new
And your use to- ‘em regurgitating rhymes so many times
That verses got little bits of bacon
While I’m shaking the foundations ancient generations
Set in place since the days of crazy legs breaking in his prime.
I’m handling rappers like a lifestyles factory
Used to be Screech now I’m feeling like Zachary
Banks like Carlton and Ashley’s
Nah, actually I’m jazzy banging Hillary or shaggy shagging Daphne
I’m the underdog that finally gets the girl
Cory from boy meets world, or Doug doing Patti
I’m nasty, 5 percenters call me blasphemy
Cause more catastrophe than a natural disaster scene
Hurricane Nyle, touch down and spit
Rounds of nouns that are coming out of my mouth
Cause my voice is a barrel to deliver these lyrics to your liver
My tongues a trigger and my mind is the magazine. (click)
Try to time me down, I play strings like Jimmy
Act up like Demi with an Emmy
When the remmy in me, Blast like a semi
You can’t pass me by like Pharcyde
I stay on point like Hawkeye
So call me Nyle, the angrypacker
Who switched to spoken word cause he hated whack rappers
Then went backward cuse he met mad actors
Now I’m less Common Sense and more Ol’ Dirty Bastard


VERSE 2
When I battle ya’ll scedaddle, when I’m spitting what I’ve written
Getting beat by a black man worst than Hillary Clinton
And the bar that I’m lifting got stars on if sitting
Which means yall chart positions are about to starts shifting
Bass pumping like a piston from Funknasty’s kick and
Mitch’s Gibson blends it with my lyrics tear it up like Popeye’s chicken
Cuz when I’m in it, then I’m fitting to be fixed in the infinite
Congressional hustle got me passing bills like the senate
Trying to make enough hits to win the pennant
Get high like my quills filled with crushed pills when I spit it
My flows so energetic that they call it ca listhenics
But don’t sweat it,
If I’m sweet, the crowd is diabetic
Getting lifted like an addict in an attic with Blue Magic
Get down like a manic on zanex reading bout Annie’s Annex
Till I’m back at causing static like Crispus Attucs,
Black acrobatik make the track to gymnastics
Like tik and tac, I be en know to make a crick in backs
Black Sheep of black sheep of rap I could do this or that
So go ahead and box me I warn you I am rocky
When it comes to rocking mics
You must be nice
Tighter than a vice to stop me
How many emcees do you know that can really rock a show?
And make it sound as live as a show in the studio?
Claiming that it’s a freestyle when you know it isn’t
Even Nasir Jones can see it was written
Arisen from a place where they hustle them street goods
And roll with a mac like fleetwood.
Bushwhick’s where I stay, BK all day
Till I die, I be reppin that 2-1-5
And that’s just the beginning I got a whole bag
Philly emcee with a Brooklyn swag