| Yo all I do is drop lethal, y’all know my people |
| Verbally it’s a massacre, I’m sharper then shanks up in Attica |
| Choke them lethally till he suffocate |
| Lifeless but step into this shit that’s priceless |
| I cut the life force, now I’m on the right course |
| I stifle, those that pop shit but carry rifle, triflin' |
| Yet I’m wise, every murder’s organized |
| It’s premeditated so brothers recognize |
| No escapin' the hell-a-coust, pay your toll, come across |
| And watch me test my burner on a horse |
| Homicidal, I used the vital when I step to suck-a-cidal |
| It all balls down to my recital |
| No time to waste, fill the base, I got ya head in the suitcase |
| Smilin' while I’m look at ya dead face |
| The cause of death still remains a mystery it’s a pity |
| They caught me cause the source had to flicker me |
| Not at all tops the shame, no external, no blood stains |
| Sharp objects to pierce the brain |
| I got enough dope for your veins and restrain |
| Hand cuffs and chains nuthin' but pain |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| You better, wreckgonnize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize, nigga |
| Carlos, the base head, is lurkin' |
| Askin' for change nigga constantly urkin' |
| Ms.Elizabeth callin' out the window to her husband Joe |
| Nigga died a year ago and every day’s the 4th of July |
| With the sparks in the sky aimin' at the gods as we get high |
| What’s your pleasure? |
| Sippin' on the booze and the Cru’s smoke the blunts |
| The whole blunt, nuthin' but the blunt |
| But the O heads in the projects, hit the heron |
| Dozin' off in front of liquor stores through a plong |
| Don’t know how to act, Sister Eve go to church |
| But she still smoke the cracks, praise to the lord, doin' bad |
| Spanish kids across the bridge popin on that nes tabs |
| Go to the bar drop the yay-yo |
| Sniffin' with the lows, all red lookin' feyo |
| And the ledge round the way, Yogi still smokes dust |
| Beetlejuice |
| (Beetlejuice, be, beetlejuice, beetlejuice) |
| I guess that lesson wasn’t delivered |
| When Chip and Elah took that long walk in the river |
| Fuck a 95, we got the 9 25's, 3 8 10, 2 4 4's |
| Make a nigga hesitate, that’s if you don’t know the date |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| You better, wreckgonnize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize, nigga |
| In actuality violence is my reality |
| Some tend to talk me but to them it’s just fallacy |
| True lies, you kick your stories on the street |
| That was true, listened twisted up and say it was you |
| But me, I’m representin' while my peeps puff herb, superb |
| Dropin' bombs like a Boznian, Serb’s my word |
| It gets no deeper, I bet the Grim Reaper |
| While layin' on my chest wish-in I had worn a vest |
| Now don’t ask why just wreckgonize my demise |
| Runnin' from 4 5's spark the drive-by's |
| Long hot days in July, the blood dries |
| And the kid that didn’t run is the kid who dies |
| The body states of America filled with lies |
| Shorties runin' and gunin' in front of God’s eye |
| It ain’t no surprise that the brain just fries |
| Due to excessive use of the get highs |
| And I’m that same nigga drinkin' Mitie |
| And we can’t kick out habits no matter how many tries |
| Living amongst the new world, doin' despise |
| Guys that don’t give a fuck the just chastise |
| But I rise, see my mind’s too wise |
| Catchin' bodies with chip-a-bodies I have no ties |
| Hittin' home runs while you hit pop flies |
| Don’t mind the size nigga just wreckgonize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| You better, wreckgonnize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize, nigga |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| You better, wreckgonnize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize |
| Nigga, you better wreckgonize, nigga |