[Esoteric]   Aiyyo, 1-2   Yo yo      [Verse 1]   I cool out on the west coast, lamp in the east   If your rappin for change, then I'd be dancin for peace   A pretty boy gangsta with his pants in a crease   Spike the Berrier, spike the campus police   Now I don't give a fuck if it's your aunt or your neice   Best man or ya priest, your fam's gettin deceased   Cuz I keep shit hot, like a flannel or fleece   And bringin dimes this way is sand to the beach   Relax to the sun, I get harrassed by the ton   Want to beat you for money son, I'll smack him for fun   I represent the east baby, that's where I'm from   I'll smoke you on the mic, and blacken your lungs   I keep my girls close like I'm packin a gun   By the foot of my bed, where my jacket is hung   A callabo, I don't see it happenin son   And a battle, I don't see you lastin through one      [Hook]   I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base   And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place   Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case   I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race      [Verse 2]   I'm ready to wreck ya, sever ya sector   Speak of my hands, just let the 7L lecture,   Don't put it past me, like your the firearm,   and I'm the metal detector, I'm here to protect ya   My rhyme is the paint, and the beat is the texture   Interrior design, when I rhyme I affect ya   Say it's amazing, +Trail Blazin+ like Drexler   In my act, you play the bad wreckin extra   Sorry homeboy, didn't mean to upset ya   You wanna grab the mic, but your hand won't let ya   Cuz it knows that if you do, you'll go home on a stretcher   Call the ambulance on the cell to come get'cha                        I do this type of shit right here, just for pleasure   Stress relief, wait 'til my next release   I'll be hittin every station like a press release   7L & Esoteric, hip-hop expertise      [Hook]   I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base   I see 'em tryin to take a lead as I rock the place   Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case   I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race      {scratching - "They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh"}      [Verse 3]   I smack the new jacks just to add to the stats   My massive attack leaves your anatomy flat   I'm not mad at you black, yo I'm gad that you rap   As a matter of fact, cats are ? wack   Now your askin for that, maybe a pat on the back   Yo I'll tell you your phat, and sound phat on that track   Then I'll show up, where ya have the factories at   Grab a batterin axe, you start to shatter ya gats   And that'll be that, make sure everythings workin   I get heads open like a, brain surgeon   When I came splurgin, veterans became virgins   First they wanna battle but now, they ain't certain   Rhyme like a tech nine, it's the God-offilis   Clappin on command like a studio, audience   You could take a dope sample, chop it up or loop it   But still can't freak it like Joe, some cats proved it      [Hook] 2x   I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base   And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place   Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case   I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race      {scratching - "They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh"}   [repeat until end]