Tekster: Last Emperor (The). Other. Heavyweight Invincible.

[Verse 1]
If I could be invincible, I'd greet competition with rage
Do work and go berserk when I'm rip'n the stage
Ignite'n and write'n rhymes in so a ridiculous age
Lets 'face off' like Travolta verses Nicolas Cage
Ah shucks, y'all finally got me to talk'n tough
Ready to bust these suckers that constantly bother us
Oh yes, just when all you thought was hopeless
One man fights back on behalf of the oppressed
And I'm so fresh- many say like Timothy McVeigh I blow sects
Don't believe me now, you'll go test and get your flow stretched
Take'n all threats and bets- double or noth'n I can match that
And bast raps- turn your Land Cruiser into a hatchback
But that's just the start of it, a small part of it
My rhymes are known to crack bones- rip through your cartilage
You don't want no part to this
When I start charge'n and barge'n in the hard way
I bring the butter, the (parquet ?) and the margarine
Two minutes past disaster, argue'n with the master
What I spit is combined with the same climate of Alaska
After I drop Anchorage, my language is filled with anguish
Breaking kids with their own songs like Weird Al Yankovich
Spin a web of deception and the best can't untangle it
Bang'n like only the Mandu, like only I can do
I'd like to live but my homies don't live in Landview
After years of jam'n, they're cram'n to understand you
We're go'n to war 'coz poor people need a champ too

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Invincible, we're genetically engineered
When I see emcees battle and expect me to interfere
Listen here- this rap game is child's play like hopscotch
Traveling at the slow speed of a fox-trot, on my block
We accelerate and celebrate when a cop's shot
For not give'n us the chance to (lamp like flave?) with a stopwatch
And block shots with just seconds on the shot clock
Send away for my album deal with three cereal box tops
I rock spots and never forfeit a battle on some (extortion?)
Brothas couldn't get the picture if they ran out and bought it
Its a small eight by ten, but I turn it into a portrait
Make it rough enough to force Timberland to endorse it
Kill it with no remorses, the original, the liver-race
Interfaced with the internet and even flip rhymes in cyberspace
Nightmare on emcee part 5, cut like sharp knives
You've got enough rhymes to fill books- I'm fill'n libraries and archives
Though art wise like (Celaste?) for try'n to gas me
I gets nasty on the mic and battle for fame like Bug's and Daffy
While you live trice- I give life to the dead and make the corpse bleed
Flip raps you couldn't catch if you had your engine set a warp speed
To hell with the money and the fame
Watch me take you out your game
Its the young Jedi that Yoda forgot to train
If I park it- its not turn'n, once I spark it- I leave it burn'n
Emcees better start learn'n- I diss more brothas than Mark Fuhrman