Hook:
What are your credentials?
I can kill an instrumental, and I'm ill with the pencil
What are your credentials?
I'm swift in the mental membrane and my skills are influential
What are your credentials?
I can murk any wack MC if his flow is from a stencil

Verse 1:
I go to work in a sweatbox,
slaving over cadences
toiling in the soil for the
codes to enter Matrixes
Wolfman is Superlative
Yes I'm overstating it
Would spend more time on it
But I gotta pay the rent

Hyperbolically,
I spread my philosophies
Marvel at my lexicon
because your's is an atrocity
It was written in the gospel
you monstrosities
would kneel to the D
That's not a threat, it's a prophecy

I mean come on,
I'm extra fresh to death with it,
I gotta keep it fresh for those
with low attention deficits
they feed me their attention
and they're oh so generous
Will I pay it back?
Now that's a conflict of interest...
HMM
Nah. I'm stingy
when attention's the fee,
but generous with my rhymes,
you'll get my two cents for free
you're a nuisance to me
to try to put me in a cell
I'll tear a nigga's ass
Refer to me as taco bell

(HOOK)

Verse 2:
My performances are awesome sauce
Explosive as a Molotov
cocktail, I mean incendiary
like a Holocaust
I'm the boss when I'm on stage
that I frolic cross
If you have yet to see me live,
then you're probably lost

They holler cross the room
"Wolfman" while I'm pounding beers
When I get obnoxious on stage
then the crowd cheers
catch me getting buck ass fuck
when you come around here
deaf fans be like.....

Fuck the MCs to whom
you pledge your allegiance
I'm out here scoring high
your boy is Reggie Theus
I wrote for years but finally constructed
a brilliant thesis
I'm the shit, you opps are dingle berries
Feces Pieces

With them wack forms
for booty eaters to snack on
you lack poems?
get the fuck outta here with that wack jawn
I'm bungie cord harness
I promise nothing to slack on
sliding towards a single mom near you
to get my mack on.

(HOOK)

Verse 3:
My flows are cancerous,
Most other MCs are jokes,
every stanza spit leaves me asking folks,
"Yo, who mans is this?"
I leave you scratching dandruff from your fro,
can you handle how
my rancid spit get's turned into cologne
like it's ambergris?

Nah, It's over your head
like bunkbeds
go check Uzi's impression of lil John
and count the "yeahs"
In the seconds before the speakers
make the sounds blare
I say something crazy in the crowd,
then I count the stares

12 angry men looking at me
like I killed their infants,
but no different than than the looks I get
in other instances
though my rhymes are tight,
they get a bit divisive
like when critics say I'm nice
and other rappers say I'm cold as ice

Fans take twice as long
to get their engine running
they'd like me better as a rapper
if I'd sing or something
And their meek friends
dig beats made for weak trends so
I'll rob the Weeknd to meet ends
by this week's end