Undisputed ChampsDel The Funky Homosapien

[Intro: Del]
A'ight, hold up, hold up
Now introducing, up front, my man Pep Love

[Verse 1: Pep Love]
My introduction, it's such an unbelievable pleasure
For you to treasure, and much needed to
Make it phat though, on another plateau
You've been needin' to get in the groove, I do it natural
As we get Jazzy with classy shit
To make them hard ass rappers wanna blast me (buck buck)
'Cause I exemplify a pimpified mack
In actin like the shit nigga
Mashin' rappers with a passion
When I get Tip and Tribe flashin' lyrics
I smash your spirits
Like a big disappointment
But this here shit will surprise ya, devise a plan
A pipsqueak, shit's weak 'cause the size of the man
So if you wanna measure up then press your luck
'Cause when I'm in the cut man there ain't no catchin' up
I bet ya never heard a nigga with a vigorous flow
Figure this bro gettin' ate like a clitoris? No
I never could'a seen it
I rip a rapper's balls off
To make him scream when its convenient
Hear ye, hear ye
Clearly we're the
Undisputed ones that you get mad at when you hear me
Pompous comp just barely even registered on the meter
'Cause we the niggas that they checkin' for
Me and you or, you and him, ruinin' them
Doin' men in when I'm cuein' him in
On the one

[Interlude: Del]
Yeah, two... three, four

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
Now niggas know I got lyrics out the anal
And any move that you make could be fatal
The poet that shows it: and some of y'all niggas know it when ya
Grab the mic and you can't recite (you're weak)
Yo that gets me irate when ya can't debate
But wait- Now ya niggas think that I'm ya runnin' mate?
Naw, fuck that, 'cause when I grab the baton I'm gone (Zoom)
All around the track like a runnin' maniac (Damn)
You're babblin', you're babblin', son; what the fuck?
Anybody can grab the gun and go buck (Psshewww)
But can you grab the mic and kick ill shit? (Like)
Stun 'em with the verbs, instead of using clips
Check it: I flip styles by the dozen
I could even do things that you thought I was but I wasn't
You MC's are slipping into rigor mortis
Give it up please and just abort this
I got styles that are legendary, even in the clink
Poetic reality, what the fuck you think?
'Cause I'm down with the D-E-L
So what the hell?

[Verse 3: Del]
I never come from the temple of simple rappers
Your rap's poor, I'm on track, I lap yours
Collapse yours, elapse forever
You're never gonna get better bitin', my friend
But I lend a hand helping
MC's yelping like puppies (Arf! Arf!)
Their rhymes are supple
My rhymes are roughed up
Like a duffel bag, mags on my wheels squeal
Peel out towards your head while others bust lead, that's dead
I beat your head in the resin when the pipe hits the buds in my chamber
My rhymes are never tamer
Perpetrators I'ma hurt ya later/after
On the path of danger
I got fangs not bangs
Like a bitch which I use to puncture
With punctuation and mutation
Racin' like my thoughts
Bust shots to scatter
And my latter lets me elevate
Over MC's that are hella fake
My reaction to your rappin' is laughin'
Has-beens are askin' to get their ass kicked
'Cause you're plastic
I'm bringing lyrical lacerations
That you're tastin'
Painful I maim foes metaphorically
Historically used the hip hop
To make your neck pop, nod in awe
When I kick the modern style

[Outro: Pep Love & Q-Tip]
The undisputed ones that you get mad at
The undisputed ones that you get mad at
The undisputed ones that you get mad at
When you grab the mic and you can't recite