Phew, I'm glad you got to spit that
I know you been chewing on it awhile--
a ruminant ruminating all week long--
cuz ain't no way you can fly freestyle

My chest does alright by me as it is, thanks--don't take no outta place hair
to make a fine flyer hang back with the gruppetto and stare
while he dream about a different kinda mountain stage
where victory no doubt would be worth the battle he'd wage

Back to the subject of what is or isn't digestible
let me teach you a lesson, like that dad on the Huxtables
Please, take a seat, I wouldn't want you to lose your footing
When I explain that at least my 'nilla's pure, while you as real as his instant pudding

Um, and no your groove aint smoove, Ice--it's greasy
like that fake bacon fat you claimin to be (metaphorically)
Ice say he Boss Hossin', but i think he Boss Hoggin', y'all
toutin' his rhymes as good when they flat out criminal