(feat. Saukrates)

"The-the Ultimate MC, what?"

[Rock]
Ha, Al Catraz, who that, some call him Rock
Yo, one shot'll make you Jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross
Playin hopscotch, I got the mach' baby
Even when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a 3-80
And I hate these fakin MC's, please
Flee or your temperature drop more degrees
Then a five presenter dressed in a young ass jacket
In the winter, wit no independent casket for this rap shit

[Ruck]
Behold the pale horse, I see death in your future
Wit thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya
Back in the days, I knew Ruck would Ruck
Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox
Since the death of the Delorian, I been best performin in
Coliseum and stadiums, holdin the war palladiums
Ain't no funny vibe from this 25 year old
Ultimate MC, test me if you hold

"The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4]
"The-the Ultimate"

[Saukrates]
Chemistratin street ruckus wit my nouns and verbs
Hated the real muthafuckas wit a thirst for words
Meditate wit me dude, alone in my own zone
Come and get high, my shit's homegrown
Bionic, hydroponics, I rap til I'm blue like Sonic
Deliveries, monotonic, but my style's octophonic
I hate to say, but you weak and your styles prosaic, man
If rhymin was fightin, I be Tyson
And all ya niggas better think, cuz right now ya runnin wit sphinx
Cuz you're weak son, I take my time to teach one
Of the meet one's, or reach one
Illamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics
It's never fluke yo, so don't panic
You can go to any other planet, and any weather you can run
But can't run forever, so whatever

"The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4]
"The-the Ultimate"

[Saukrates]
(Feelin it, ya niggas give a peep, in my manuscript)
I'm the muthafuckin pimp, the microphone is my b-i-itch
And you the John about to make a nigga r-i-ich
Now get wit this, funk arithmetic
If you outside make a sw-i-itch, and step inside the ab-y-yss
Nigga come ill, don't tr-i-ip, say it again
You the John about to make this nigga r-i-ich
Man, my finger pump it, hard to res-i-ist
Find you nitch, nigga, hold that, my trigga finger start to i-i-itch
(Diggin your ditch) Yea I'm on the mound wit a butane fireball
Better duck the wild p-i-itch, I'm sick wit it
You will never fly, you're a ostr-i-ich
Uh, be on ya back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish
Bank is, bank is closed, for my skrilla for the n-n-ni, rip-rip it

"The-the Ultimate MC, what?" [x4]
"The-the Ultimate"