holdin down my quarters, sound the order
to pound the surroundin' borders down with mortars
explodin, dont get ya face opened
layin frozen, its case closed then
brains blown 'n im known to break trojans
straight motions, now ya throat stays open
im takin a spaded post 'n ill smash your face
then ill lie under oath of the magistrate
get sum hoe to post bail 'n im outta state
bitch late.. aint no way to incarcerate me
i could rip apart the fuckin A Team
jack mr T for them fake rings
kid i dont sweat it, mics get deaded
each time that my knife's imbedded
inside a head its, sweeter than diabetics
find a medic, or maybe a doctor
a fuckin flight for life chopper
cuz the way that i sliced you is ackward
lookin like the fuckin bite of a boxer
that was grippin you tight til his jaw hurt
you most likely be gone first
wanna try me in concert?
pop urs
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