Guess who's back to the dopetrack game? The Rhyme King is still rappin, so the fact remains. I'm still jackin' chains, namin' names. Claimin' the fame while I spit balls of flame. I'm in the hall of fame while ya on the wall of shame. Every lady likes to call my name. I'm insane in the brain so things haven't changed. I'm lookin' for nines and tecs to get their life rearranged. I spit shit so sick I get the rhymes to your mind twisted. The Rhyme King still picks up the fine bitches. Bitch, you better do my nine dishes. Or I won't be able to grant you those nine wishes. It won't come true. And I still remember you lit up my horny dick on fire, and that took away our fun too. You're still in the doghouse. I'm glad that you're not my spouse. You don't deserve to kiss me right now.