With a look of dismay the intruders laid to rest
From the stroke of death strike that caved in his chest
With a look of dismay the intruders laid to rest
From the stroke of death strike that caved in his chest
write cha like a book on ya girl's coffee table, because i don't give a fuck
To no not to soaring like a beach ball somebody might pop tranquilize underneath to not be this sole
Trip
take things far like a rope and a chain don't get hung by ya own verbiage man
Lyrically dull emcees bring butter knives to blade fights against my Mexican machete
P. Diddy said I was a bad boy cause lyrically I’m notorious as Biggie
waking up on the side some house all by myself 12 noon quiet to smoke who where who bothers me all alone
Trip
Deadly hoarder like Saddam Hussein with his collection of grenade launchers
I dispose of fearless foes corpses like this was Mexico’s streets of Tlajomulco
Dick size of night-sticks, raw dog without protection like Foxy Brown in I shot ya remix
Lyrically a beast like Terry Norris when he slaughtered John Mugabi
put cha mind back into space and void the whole transaction at the register
Murderous charges when I snipe nemesis from deep like Craig Hodges
On one accord my vocal cords connect corrosive
Deadly as a drug overdosage bomb tick explosive focus
Lyrically sick as human immunodeficiency virus that killed Eazy-E
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