America's Most

Yo, welcome, this is MC Sharper Image

I'm standing here with my dog, Technology

We are here to uplift your mind and upgrade your systems

So come on down everyone that wants to get some

Plug in and boot and boot

Yo, yo, I couldn't give a rat's ass

I've come to eat grub and slap ass

And show my whole entire black ass

Y'all know the saying, he who laughs last, laughs loudest

Bang the loudest, can't a coward do a thing 'bout it

What the bum-ba, clock mami like aye, carumba

Here's my name and number, let's la rumba

Doc, it makes me wonder, how many heads has Heather Hunters?

How many different conclusions can come to?

And my sixteen bars, Meth, hittin' too hard

With a total disregard for your whole entourage

Rap phenom, slap your ass, snap your thong to my theme song

And hope you don't get clapped upon

Who that kid, as dirty as that ol' dirty Bastard

Who that kid that pack a tool belt and dirty ratchet?

Set your tape recorder, lock down your daughters

Soon as I touch the rap game, out of order

Do I get brollic, Give me a car, I'll show you how to flip mileage

Gimme that mic, I'll short it with a quick wattage

Skip college for the big wallet

The ape with a fire escape from the weight of a hit product

My draft is cold like Miller Beer

When I hit it, you see more stars than tigger cheer

The red **** here and it's outta control

Something like when Ron Gold' went out with Nicole

I'll bring it back to the streets where the crooks belong

And if it ain't come back raw, you cooked it wrong

Where is the bomb, hold your nose

At the show I'll be shittin' out my  mouth like my colon closed

Me and Meth, 100 proof, in case y'all a biter

And ovaries fill these great balls of fire

(Doc, where the lighter?) I'm hemming them up

Coffee grind 'em and put em in a vanilla dutch

Yo, believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

I'll be back, that's what it all about now

We not playin', you know what I'm sayin'

Believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

I'll be back, that's what it all about now

Fuck with the America

I'm lookin' at y'all killers like y'all stole something

Fuck your life, trust my ****, sometimes 'fore I trust my wife

Fuck it, I'm nice, ya'll don't be rushing the mic

With your guns in your left hand, not bustin' it right

Ain't no eyeing the team, ain't no eyeing my cream

I'm a semi-auto clean rapid fire machine

Cocky, six foot three with knock knees

Attract hoodrats for blocks 'cause I got cheese

Yo, dude, I carry cheese but I don't flaunt it

When the towel is thrown in, you know there's grown men

That spoke on it, we both on it, the Trackmasters

Puncturing holes in the beat when a vocal tone poke on it

Barbaric, my Caddie truck beyond average

With the same size wheels that's on a horse carriage

Up in the air, you spot my dudes

Rollin' over like shit like B. Rhymes on Mountain Dew

Yo, believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

Be back, that's what it all about now

We not playin', you know what I'm sayin'

Believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

Be back, that's what it all about now

Fuck with the America

Believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

Be back, that's what it all about now

We not playin', you know what I'm sayin'

Believe that, burnt rubber's in the house now

Believe that, let's turn this mother out now

Be back, that's what it all about now

Fuck with the America