Slipknot: Won't last

I Break Out in a Cold Sweat, Rip Up the Whole SetI'm About As Bad As You Can GetComin' From Bed-stuy, That's Where They Do Or DieForget About the Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh MyIt's Not a Fairy Tale, a Myth, It's a Musical UpliftAnd I'm the Wrong One to Mess WithI Roll On Rappers Like a Cherokee, Bake 'em Up MerrilyJust Like the Cooks At Sara LeeErase, Replace, Disgrace, and Chase, Unlace Your FaceAnd Place a Neck Brace, About-faceAnd Get to Steppin', Because My Lethal WeaponIs Blowin' Too Fast, While You're Slow As Catherine HepburnWhat You Need Is a Little More Speed, Style and FlavorBut It Still Wouldn't Save YaSo to the Rear, Step Off and Let the Man FlexCuz I Can Hang Tighter to the Groove Than SpandexI Snatch the Mic Whith Grace, Always With a PlanAnd Cee'll Cut the Recored Up Like Edward ScissorhandsRock the Soul Shack, I Can't Hold BackFour Years Standin' and I Still Got the KnackCuz I Remember When I First Did ItThe Comments That Were Goin' Around From the Next CriticLike "yeah, He Sound Alright, But Still Will He Hold?"And Now My Black Ass Is Still Here Like Billy JoelOne Hip-hopper That Don't Have to Sound ProperMy Broken English You Can Still DistinguishAnd I Don't Have no Image Or no GimmicksAnd I Don't Have no Bounds Or no LimitsThe Kane'll Keep Goin', and Growin', and Flowin'And Showin' Any Mc, I Got the Best Finesse to ManifestCuz I Pull Cards Like Some Type of RetardHittin' Mcs Hard, and Any Other Rass ClaaadI'm the Predator to Any CompetitorScorchin' and Damagin' and Stompin' Et CeteraAnd Any Mc That Tries to Test MeI'm Swellin' Up His Jaws Mor Than Dizzy GillespieCrushin' All Dreams You Thought Were PossibleI Turn Into Nightmares You Have in the HospitalI Couldn't Count the Rappes I Be Servin'If Defeat Was Sex, Huh, I'd Be a VirginMy Match Ain't Been Found, Movin' Around, Breakin' 'em DownWhere the Ground, Never the Clown, How That Sound?Don't Get Gassed, Cuz Boy You Won't LastSo Take Your Crippled Rhymes and Put 'em in a CastYou're Too Pathetic, Bring in a ParamedicTo Heal Your Sick Rhymes, Cuz Man, You Ain't PoeticYou're Just a Cheap Little Hooker and I Gotta Overlook AMc That's Wack, Ya Little BoggerAnd Stand Clear of the Mic That I'm Rippin'As I'm......???And Get Your Jury and a Good DefendantCuz I'm Servin' a Death Sentence...