One time for ya mind, bust it

It's the Funky Man, and n***as can't see me
When I grab the mic, you better play the wall like graffiti
Cause whether fast, or somethin' slow
I'm "Bad" like Michael Jackson, only thing is, I'm fucking though
Yo, and I kick rougher raps
I'm the type to kick a rhyme and ask "Who can fuck with that?"
Yo, you know I be slammin' suckers
When I'm not on the mic, I'm makin' more moves than a dance instructor
You know how I'm livin', sonny
I'm all about gettin' money
Gamin' and stickin' honeys
Man, you know who the best is
Even the 2 Live Crew ain't nasty like Finesse is
I got that uncut product
Gimme a mic, in a minute, I blow the muthafuckin' spot up
Come on, here's your chance to swing
With that man, Lord Finesse, y'all know me, I don't dance or sing
In '94, I'm out jinglin'
Servin' poetic justice, without that n***a John Singleton
I do my thing, while the fans be jellin'
Ayo, I'm so dope, you better tap your man and tell him
I don't fake moves, I'll scrape crews
I make brothers break food
Gimme a beat, with a bass groove
I'm mad phunky, ask the experts
Cause I'll make you bop your head 'til your muthafuckin' neck hurt
So don't ask me to max, G
Cause if you ain't real, I'm bringin' it to your face like acne
Now rappers run scams and flim-flams
On how they be gettin' loose, when y'all rusty like The Tin Man
You rap fast, tryna stack cash
But on a realer real, come on, y'all still soundin' half-ass
Yellin' and screamin' like you got somethin'
When y'all don't got nothin'
So y'all brothers need to stop frontin'
Talkin' how you be raggin' shit
When I don't know if you n***as are rappin' or talkin' muthafuckin' Arabic
You act so ill, you're no frills, you should go chill
You're all mouth, with no skills
Man your station, cause the man you're facin'
Is steppin' to you trash muthafuckas like sanitation
Shoot and throw rhymes, the whole nine, when it's showtime
What up kid? Brothers know I can hold mine
On the real, I got rhyme skills
When the time's ill, I'm blowin' up spots like a minefield
Now brothers front with they chest out
But words from Finesse' mouth, 'll have them n***as stretched out
They make me sick to my stomach
So put it on 'em kid, come on them n***as don't want it
They can't see me, believe me
Y'all all phonies like them n***as that be wrestlin' on TV
Yo, you're nowhere near pro
And brothers couldn't hang, if y'all was muthafuckin' scarecrows
Nowadays alotta rappers sound fake
Talkin' that gangsta shit, when y'all softer than a pound cake
So why you frontin' with the burner, kid?
When you done took more ass-whoopin's, than fuckin' Tina Turner did
You wanna front, so be it
But quit beatin' around the bush
I just peep how I see it
Me fall off? Yo, that shit's dead
I could never fall off, so get that shit through your thick head
Yo, you're rollin' with a paid star
I keep my money in rolls, just like my muthafuckin' braids are
I'm the dopest, the baddest, one of the fattest, the nicest
You chickenheads know my status
So lounge, and peep the deal
Cause I'm one muthafucka you don't have to tell "keep it real"
You know what I'm sayin'?
And that's how it's gon' go
That goes to all my peeps from Diggin' In The Crates
It goes to all the peeps and the brothers and sisters that supported me
And I disappeared for a minute, but I'm back and it's all real