Stories of stores I robbed robbers can't touch the God
Self defense against all odds scores evenly settled
I turn up like treble trashing you ghetto trashy misfit's
Get blicked bitch with a slug high pitched
Mantra rich in wisdom wealthy off knowledge
Dirty narc's out for my head reason narcotics
And snitching fiends I hit with high beam and send them to the field of dreams
Both yall killed it haha ill be back...
My skills punish, you untill ya grills rubbish, make ya cry like peeled onions More electrifying. Then a eels touch is, got a girl thats real luscious Eat these rappers for real like sealed lunches More bad ass than a navy seals gun is
More fly then everybody that wields luggage
Im the beer clutchin career crushin fear nothin fierce one with...sheers cuttin blood spills gushin no need to worry bout the wounds cuz u wont heal from it
Frank Lucas government witnesses
Hang from bridges in Mitchell&Ness stitches
Slim thugs with slugs not diamonds to their mugs
Formidable foes turned John Does in Tijuana ghettos
Anatomies made soft as Roy Hibbert in low blocks
Vexed knuckles enter optic nerves like blind spots
Steam turbine laser beams shed light to the unseen
Revolver aim tears brains out their cranial frames
Body parts disorganized like Iraqi campaigns
Rivals’ mangled remains unrecognizable
Opposition carbonized beyond recognition
Muscle flexin’ pythons for asphyxiation
High-velocity bullet reverberations shock waves
Mascaras left with craters size of moon caves
Crack heads adjacent, bury’em in basement
One’s self-defense trounced by intense violence
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