[Chorus]
  We got them, Sledge, (?) ruff heads (check the flow)
  King Tee's on the set (check the flow)
  When niggaz try to get high-tech (check the flow)
  The dialect's on the flex
  
  [Sledge]
  Watch this, when I shine I bring rain
  Clouds, bust storms, yo, this ain't the norm
  When I perform, I get you up out your seat
  Get down with the real deal skills, then chill
  Then show your ass how to get amped, then lamp
  Stretch, flex, then tackle what's next
  Cause MC's, that luck up, need to hush up
  who can't brush up, on their rap style, shut the fuck up
  Then duck from the one that gets buck-wild
  I chop your ass in half, with a smile
  Big grin, all teeth, for those who got beef
  Fuckin with me ock, you're six feet deep
  Down in the ground, alone with no sound
  while I'm up here CHILLIN, top billin
  And illin, on all those, who oppose
  I wanna take one more shot, strike a pose, uhh!
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [King Tee]
  Smash, here comes the one that talks trash
  to garbage MC's, who try to diss me
  and my crew - the ill ville animal cannibal
  backbreakers, government amputators
  Bounce to this if you think you know the hits
  And all you gassed-up critics, put the brakes on the shit
  Cause I'm tired of this, and I'm tired of that
  Motherfuckers sayin King Tee's shit was wack
  But in fact, my rhymes crack backs and make money stacks
  by the truckload, now let's go for the gold
  So strap on your seatbelt yo and let's go
  And get down, to the sound that burns quick
  Cause I'm about to burn rubber, on this number
  and any MC who claims his style is legit
  Suckers wanna try me? (I know not why Tee)
  I light that ass up like the 4th of July G, uhh!
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [T] Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo
  [S] Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo
  [T] Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo
  [S] Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow
  
  [Sledge]
  Capital S-L, crooked letter humpback fuck that
  thump that, shit that's never wack
  Cause this goes out too all the niggaz that we rushin
  To hear the shit I'm bustin over ruptured percussion
  It ain't my fault that I'm layin niggaz down like asphault
  and blow your ass away like chalk, dust
  Then crush your monkey-ass unto the side
  Cause wrecked dialect is causin lyrical genocide
  
  [King Tee]
  I stress facts like IRS wants tax
  from anyone claimin that they're livin, kind of fat
  You see, I could get sick in the thick of shit
  I turn my toes up, when it goes up, my foe's butt
  Hey nigga back-steps, even you can get hit
  I'm more crankier than a bitch on the shit!
  Niggaz get heated cause they just got defeated
  by the two man team, the Sledge and the King, uhh!
  
  [Chorus]