| Yeah, assorted flavor Clarks |
| No doubt |
| The beer champ |
| Yeah, curly head kid |
| Yo, yo, yo |
| From Gators to blazers, low fades and razors |
| Big dick saloon, I contact the womb; the black asian |
| Which location keeps circulating |
| I want the twin power after day shit on his mason |
| A God steam represent the gummy with the green |
| who walk fiend stand up on your block and burn a bean |
| Sir Ballentine, lookin at this bitch walk behind |
| The thing that’s fucked up appeal us that’s wine |
| They turn around take my last pull off the L |
| these niggas on the block keep looking at me well |
| But they want the jewel it ain’t hard to tell |
| I’m recognize his face, he actin like Denzel |
| But fuck him, I went to check low for chop |
| on a ball gone the size like faith up top |
| Now it’s a whole new ball game, strategic mind frame |
| My dialogue’s rebellious raid and razor fame |
| Glass out a red light, see Killah get on a ninja bike |
| Show my love to the God he peeled out and made a right |
| When you walking down the street with your — Box in your hand |
| and you bringing the music of the — Wu-Tang Clan |
| And you hear Ironman on your — radio rapping |
| Your feet start the dancing and your — hands start the clapping |
| Street’s running through your dancehall gunning |
| like Lee Harvey Oswald stunning slapping MC’s with summons |
| for pumping — that watered down substance |
| Beef there’s slugs finger creeping |
| making moves like Crying Freeman |
| Prince of thieves, earth’s third seed |
| Heavyweight like golden fleeces homicides stroll the street |
| If Luther preached it, look at the thugs holding heat |
| In the city beef got me plotting trilogy |
| To the smoke enemies sneak attacks I’m beyond and above that |
| Seen that done that, respect black |
| I catch a slug to your hardhat |
| lounging in the everglades, surfing the airwave |
| Catch a buck fifty where the razorblades swiftly |
| Shaolin cats be shiesty, strictly |
| drunk off the Irish whiskey |
| Rest your headpiece on this one sun |
| cough up a lung |
| Sleeping on my murderous type ones I get you done |
| I’m looking at these cuthroat kids and how they live |
| It’s like we was partners in spades and you renege |
| Can’t fuck with no nigga like that he get me jack |
| Or sent back, meaning whole life fade to black |
| I’m looking in the half of right and roll tight |
| fool me once but can’t fool me twice, I’m 25 |
| To life on this mic device ain’t nothing nice |
| a mixture of long wild rice and no spice |
| Inflicted, rap addicted, track I stick it, flip it |
| daddy long dick-ed, slide |
| A little bit beyond twisted, mind in stitches |
| You thought weak but meant wicked |
| Niggas choke off my second hand smoke lifted |
| everyday is like my birthday I’m mad gifted, dead calm |
| Hit me with the eighteen bronze, buddah palm |
| About to blow like Napalm, before your arm |
| Prepare for the warfare, or buy a share |
| Oh what the fuck we dealing with, yeah |
| Johnny about to go there |
| need another year |
| Bust a shot for my sons that didn’t make it here |