Cuttin to the Quick
[Verse I: Tommy Wit Da Tone]

T-o-double m-y to the t-o-n-e
Yeah I’m pissed off, so I’m venting through the M-I-C
So this a call out to the whack ass buster boy MC’s, and what in the fuck has ever happened to originality?
Yeah your music falls flat, it’s lyrical fallacy
Say you got the mac, yeah maybe if it’s mac and cheese
Everybody wanna be Doomshop, 59, Schema, SIC
But themselves something that they’ll never be
Carbon copy motherfuckers, cookie cutter rip off others
Music's trash goes in the gutter, yeah I said it did not stutter
Y’all got the biggest fucking еgos I have ever seen
Talking all that shit causе you only hard behind a screen
Music got me sleeping like I took some antihistamine
Making sure my shit stays flavored like I was eating cuisine
And I’m steadily flowing, slowing down ain’t where I’m going
Always growing, fits you throwing, all because you see me glowing
Boat stays rowing, know you holding, if I were you goods would be showing
Mouth is foaming, mind is roaming, yeah you know a player zoning
I’m so fucking tired of always hearing the same shit
You know there’s more artists to sample than just Three 6?
Over the scene I block the sun and become eclipse
Don’t listen to the sayings, my words hurt like stones and sticks, bitch
[Verse II: Tommy Wit Da Tone]

You got to come correct, or get that ass put in check
So you better show respect, else you will be subject
To a beating you can’t deflect, and like Wu-Tang after you hit floor you inspect da deck
Making sure you motherfuckers realize I deject
Any bitch ass fucking rappers thinking that they can step
To Tommy on the mic that shit is funny I reject
Generic phonky rappers steadily sounding like the rest
Y’all either drugging or ya thugging or ya been depressed
Where’s the substance rustic rappers tell me what is next?
Protect ya neck ayy, shout out to my homie OGTHAMANE
And that other muthafucker they call Special K
All my dogs up on another level, here to stay
Can’t forget Brimstone or Ugly Bastard, fuck the rest mane
Produce my own shit, 'cause I know how I like it
Been making music since a little itty bitty jit
Self taught motherfucker that’s the way it is
Musical homicide up on the beat when Tommy spit
Shout out to my homies who have helped along the way
Ziggles, Cameron, mane, y’all put me on this path I graze
Giving what I get back I got respect on all y’all names
But watch out underground I’m predator and y’all the prey