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| - | To the Break of dawn
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| - | To the to the to the
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| - | Times up punk
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| - | yea yea Time to settle the score
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| - | To the break of dawn another dumb move
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| - | Ha ha ha this time it's over boy
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| - | This is me and you head to head let's go
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| - | Here we go beat down round 2
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| - | Heads up punk 'cause it all comes down to
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| - | Me and you face to face head to head
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| - | Mic to mic I like the weak shit you said
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| - | To the break of dawn beats nitro
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| - | Lyrics weak, say goodnight 'cho
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| - | Star Trek shades, man cut the joke
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| - | Let's get serious and go for broke
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| - | You still got a lock on my jock like a pitbull
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| - | Victor before you pull it off you thought Mr. Pitiful
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| - | Here's some mouthwash, g
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| - | Your mouth smells like my jockstrap, C-
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| - | A-U-S-E, you're rhyme didn't mean
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| - | ?D-O-D-D?, junior Moe Dee
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| - | Stop biting, chewing, swallowing
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| - | Who in the hell told you that you could do what you were doing
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| - | Raise up son, I need jock relief
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| - | Here's a toothpick, now get my jock out your teeth
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| - | You swallow it, yea, finish, burp
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| - | Now let a real man go to work
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| - | 'Cause I'm a whip you like your daddy, beat ya like a baby
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| - | Sick ya like a dog, dropping lyrics wit rabies
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| - | Cut ya like a knife 'cause you're nuthin but hype
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| - | You slice and dice and ice twice for life
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| - | I'm a treat ya like a hooker punk, change your clothes
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| - | Put you on the streets wit ya jingling hoes
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| - | Keep talking about me and I'll keep pimping
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| - | Just bring me that money and take this last whipping
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| - | How can one man be so dumb
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| - | You're trying to come off and don't know how to come
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| - | You're young and dumb and quick at the tongue
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| - | You high strung bum come and get done
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| - | I'll do you wit a death blow
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| - | (Chorus)
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| - | Kill 'em kill 'em
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| - | I'll hit ya wit a death blow
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| - | My lyrical beatdown will leave ya in a coma
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| - | 'Cause you can't hang without a high school diploma
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| - | Your brain of fatigue, you're out of your league
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| - | You're running out of gas and you're tank is on E
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| - | Somebody buy him a heart 'cause he's petro
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| - | Take you're whipping like a man brother let go
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| - | No apologies, tears of violence
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| - | Get your black suits 'cause I ain't smiling
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| - | I'm shooting the gift of gab, brother you're ripped in half
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| - | Soon as the mic is past, you won't live to laugh
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| - | If there's laughter, I'll get the last one
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| - | You loafed on the lyrics and you caught a bad one
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| - | So who's got no style, look at your profile
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| - | You can't dance, can't dress and you're so foul
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| - | Still wearing played out 4 finger rings
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| - | Played out fat gold chains and things
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| - | You changed your look now change your gameplan
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| - | Trying to dress but you still wear name brand
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| - | Brother, you look crazy weak
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| - | And it gets worse when we hear you speak
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| - | So you ain't got a chance in hell
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| - | You'll be known as the late LL
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| - | The man who lost one, one too often
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| - | Came wit a soft one and went to his coffin
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| - | A close casket they won't show ya
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| - | When I finish, you're mama won't know ya
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| - | 'Cause I'm a rip you limb from limb
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| - | You tombstone read he had no win
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| - | So RIP, Rest in peace, rip 'em
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| - | D.I.D., dead indeed, did 'em
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| - | A H-I-T, hitman, so whatcha hit 'em wit
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| - | A rhyme silencer, I hit 'em wit a death blow
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| - | Chorus
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| - | If mama said knock me out, come do it
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| - | You can't win and that (record scratch) knew it
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| - | I'm a send you home in a body bag
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| - | Wit the mic in your throat and a jock for a gag
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| - | You're out of here, over, finished, all in
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| - | And Marly marl can't save you from fallin
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| - | 'Cause as soon as you came back what did you do
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| - | To the break of dawn, another dumb move
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| - | You can't go hard, you're just so-so Todd
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| - | I'm that type of guy, oh my God
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| - | It's gets no rougher comes no weaker
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| - | marly hooked the beats so now you need a
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| - | Writer to bring you back from hell
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| - | Because I'm a rock up L
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| - | Low life loser, life like luna
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| - | Lafidasical, lispless luna
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| - | Tic liver lifeless, living likeness
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| - | Lusting longing lyrics like this
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| - | Little league, lard larsonist liar
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| - | Label ledger, left the leper liar
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| - | Bull, lull, lateral learning
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| - | Laps language latent lurking
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| - | Language, language, local logo
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| - | Light laboring, limited local
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| - | Now LL's a laughing stock
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| - | 'Cause I bit that ass to the last stop
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| - | I watched you fall like Hitler fell
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| - | And now you're down to a broken L
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| - | You're records ain't hot and you're shows don't sell
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| - | Yo, tell 'em how you fell L, hard as hell
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| - | You came back and you thought you had me
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| - | But think about it, whos' your daddy
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| - | Kill 'em... Big daddy, I don't want none...
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| - | I did 'em wit a death blow
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| - | To the break of dawn
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| - | To the, to the, to the, get him out of here
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