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