All right, is everybody ready?Oh, yeah!Young man went out and made a name for himself.One, two, three, four, get it!Dope, not complicated, but educated.This here's contaminated.This ain't another record from a sucker-duck crew,but my name is Dub and the Latin's on the cutwith another dope jam and a brand new style.By the way, I'm from the crew called Amati Lo Profile,particularly for tainting the wack rhyme recitals.You just a new jack punk professional mind about it.I'm on a journey knocking out punk sissies.Nah, hell, I'm about to get busy.Take this microphone, plug it up, and then I say,check one, who be the next dummy trying to get some?Son, this ain't a circus. My name ain't Bozo.I just suckers and I hate old gold.I'm like a victim, rolling on date loops.Watching my back, I keep strapped so I can aim and unpack.Yo, this wasn't funny when I take a look aroundall these wannabe dubs in the L.A. town.They try to roll like me, talk like me, even try to act like me.It doesn't do you no good to try to bite me, friend.You might have seen me at a show or twoopening up for new artists just paying my dues.But now I finally got a chance to break through.Yo, move back, punk, and make room for the W.Move back, punk, and make room for the W.I know this lately at the hip-hop shows.A lot of rappers on stage got the crowd saying,hold when the girl you sent out in between the runs.Song after song, you're line after line.Say, hold, play it out with bell-bottoms and afros.What's the matter? You scared to come original?Nowadays the whole rap scene is outrageous.Amateurs, wannabes, stepping on stage.And suckers know I'm coming and I'm steadily creeping.I told my manager, Doug, they keep sleeping.That's a violation of the capital L-Z or W-B-R-O-O.No, here we go with another one of those crazy styles.Straight from the W, a low profile.I got a catalog of rhymes and lines for you and your crew.Yo, move back, punk, and make room for the W.Move back, punk, and make room for the W.It's understandable. You don't know who I am.You never heard of me. You couldn't really give a damnif I came with the funkiest lyrics in the world.Yo, the game, respect. Do I gotta wear a jerry curl?Change my name to MC Soul Glow.No, I don't think so. I'm down with low pro.Change my name to MC Soul Glow.No, I don't think so. I'm down with low pro.Featuring DJ Aladdin.I better get the turntable assassin.With another dope tune, the funky groove can make you move.See, it's better when it's smooth.A new jack, no, don't compare me to him.I ain't new to this rapping. It's a lifetime skill I've acquired.My mailman, Faze, will quote that brother W-Z.Y'all, he ain't no joke.Like a criminal, brains can shackle down like a sling.Watch a rooty-poo new jack, punks get paid.Suckers clapping at the mob, but they ain't dropping knowledge.Sounds like you're out of Cal State Watts College.The bass of my vocal tone drops like a cannonball.Who got beef? We can go some, y'all.Luka battled a sundown, now do you wanna nut up, punk?It don't matter, I'ma chew you on up.Like a barbecue rib, this ain't your week crew home.And when I finish chewing on it, I'ma throw you the bone.You want peace? The best thing to do is just move back, punk.And make room for the W.W.W.W.