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[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)

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