[Verse One: Q-Unique]
Enter the bragin, Q-Leechan from the providence of hip-hop
Do bodily damage like a combination kick-chop
Teacher Sifu Herc and Sensei Bambaatasan
Since I`ve studied techniques just to drop the kata bomb
With Jeet Kune flow, way of the intercepting rhyme
Battle to the last breath or till my adversary declines
I`ve trained in weapons, mic chucks and deadly spinning vinyl
The drunk munk breathing aerosol till I`m a krylon wino
Unorthodox over traditional I may condone it
Respectfully bow but never take your eyes off your opponent
Square off as I mentally prepare in my rap stance
Defeat is a Buddah opportunity `cause that`s a fat chance
You write the white belt and flow slow like Tai Chi
I`m like Freddie Fox(xx) possessed by the dragon, y`all won`t fight me
Your side kicks don`t move me, and seem to have no flavor left
So I drop the flow Kashugi and have them all pray for death
Train till the sample`s done. flip with weight like Samo Hung
No need to handle guns, watch and see me make this mammal run
At the end of it all, I`ll retire undefeated
Live by the mountain side and write a book of Five Rings for you to read it
[Chorus 2x: Q-Unique]
Training, balance
Focus, challenge
Meditate, silence
Skill, talent
Broken patterns
Have a seat and play your part
You must learn to accept defeat
Check my language arts
[Verse Two: Q-Unique]
(Ha ha ha ha ha..)
We meet again young Choy
I will now take you down with the six steps of b-boy
There is no way you`ll overcome my 1200 turning techniques
or take out my pen-fist punchlines, your beginner styles are too weak
My fat cap burner kicks`ll go over your toy throw-ups
You have a lot of guts, I`m even suprised you showed up
but still.. we`ll write fight to the first strike or rhyme battle to the very end
And if I am to die, my loyal students will take the revenge
Direct confrontation with Grandmaster number seven
Push past and catch a blast from my right fist of legend
In a kombat with mortals I play the part of Lui Kang
Confuse you like Manderan slang and balance out the hip-hop like Yin Yang
Chasing fallen rap monks till they run far
Have me resort to animal instincts like Hung Gar and Flung a ninja star
Aimed at the head of an A&R white belt whose fight felt unskilled
Surrounded by a class of records execs and got them killed
Taste my own blood a lash out in a rage
My `bo staff` is the microphone stand, my `dojo` is the stage
It`s the year of the Q, mark that on your calendar
A double clap at the end of the battle means bring on the next challenger
(Chorus 4x)
