text: Huh!
  Check it
  Uh!
  Silence, something about silence makes me sick
  Cause silence can be violent sorta like a slit wrist
  If the vibe was suicide, then you would push the button
  But if ya bowin down, then let me do the cuttin
  Some speak the sounds but speak in silent voices
  Like radio is silent though it fills the air with noises
  Its transmissions bring submission as ya mold to the unreal
  And mad boy grips the microphone with a fistful of steel
  Yeah
  And mad boy grips the microphone with a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  Its time to flow like the fluid in ya veins
  If ya will it, I will spill it and ya out
  Just as quick as ya came
  Not a silent one, but a defiant one
  Never a normal one cause Im the bastard son
  With the visions of the move, vocals not to soothe
  But to ignite and put in flight my sense of militance
  Groovin, playin that game called survival
  The status, the elite, the enemy, the rival
  The silent sheep slippin, riffin, trippin
  Give you a glimpse of the reality Im grippin
  Steppin into the jam and Im slammin like Shaquille
  Mad boy grips the microphone with a fistful of steel
  Yeah
  And mad boy grips the microphone with a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  With a fistful of steel
  Aw shit
  And if the vibe was suicide, then you would push the button
  But if youre bowin down, then let me do the cuttin
  Yeah
  Come on
  A .44 full of bullets
  Face full of pale
  Eyes full of empty
  A stare full of nails
  The roulette ball
  Rolls alone on the wheel
  A mind full of fire
  And a fistful of steel
  And if the vibe was suicide, then you would push the button
  But if youre bowin down, then let me do the cuttin
  Yeah
  With a fistful of steel, uh
  Come on
  Uh, with a fistful of steel
  Uh