| Til we run out the school, the school of hard knocks
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| That’s real
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| Bout to show you somethin' new, don’t worry about it
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| Uh-huh, yeah
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| Never had a life, never had a wife
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| I’d rather have a jack knife and creep through the night
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| See my mind ain’t right, just ran out of my Prozac (damn)
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| This grind ain’t right, I’m supposed to have fat stacks
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| Certain people in my life, they didn’t have my back
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| It’s hurtin' deep and I’m still fightin' to make a come up, you know what
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| So I put the gun up, and I picked up the mic
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| Then it all came out, it was a very bloody sight
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| It was a very dark night, (pull out the tool)
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| Do the death dance, I don’t wanna see your hands
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| 'til we (run out the school), school of hard knocks
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| We tote Glocks and punch holes in 'em like polka dots, scopin' plots
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| It’s nothin', I handle raps like I handle lacs
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| Plus I, I handle this like I handle that
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| I got skills in this battle rap, matter fact
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| You could meet me in the back, and we could spit shit like mini macs
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| How many times must I have to spit, patna?
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| And how many nines must I have to grip?
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| Cuz I rip shit like a ice pick and I hit up your block quick
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| And if you can’t see it you must got Glock-coma
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| I’m sicc in the head and I’m not soberr
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| Do the death dance, (C'mon)
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| Do the death dance, C’mon
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| I don’t wanna see your hands
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| Do the death dance
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| See, I’m try’na do damage to your soil
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| Half you niggas can get your brains wrapped up, in some aluminum foil
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| I’m hard-boiled like John Woo, smoke bomb too
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| You must be off that dope and dog food, I can make it all cool
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| I’ve been stressed out, lookin' for the best route
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| Sendin' out death certificates, what’s this all about?
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| I’mma be the next man to admit this, touch me if you wanna
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| I had a close relationship with straight gin and Mary J-uana
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| Crooked like every daytona, get that
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| Smash out out in a glass house, first one in, last one out
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| Put one in, take one out
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| I make you take a bath in cold water with heavy shoes (ooh)
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| I’m that fool that rips it up, them other fools bad news
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| It’s cold blue and I can make your body cold too
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| He ain’t the only one, we got heavy right out the Chevy
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| And it’s a cold, cold medley, them other thangs is petty
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| Aight, everybody get ready |