| Yea, yea, yea, yea
|
| What? |
| What?
|
| Show you how to kill people bitch
|
| Gangrene, grene, grene
|
| I’m a real gladiator
|
| I grab a hater
|
| Like Al-Qaida
|
| Pray to your savior
|
| Then meet the maker
|
| I rain razor stain
|
| Paint them with brains
|
| Hanging like Wes Craven made it
|
| West favorite playground, I’m fowl
|
| The fowl mouth faded
|
| Cali wow staler spawn
|
| Rip you apart yo
|
| Like 300 Spartans
|
| And two arsons
|
| I move carcasses
|
| Y’all don’t want to start these architects
|
| Michelangelo, archangel
|
| To mark up your set
|
| Get set
|
| Go
|
| From every angle I strangle your neck
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| Disconnect your lungs from your chest
|
| That’s taking your breath
|
| Picking up some rats where you rest
|
| Then piss on your steps
|
| Disrespectful
|
| But you bitch
|
| This shit’s sick
|
| I’m the first Gangrene from the ditch
|
| There’s gutter water
|
| And there’s nothing quite like this
|
| We push them harder
|
| And I don’t care if it’s for honor
|
| Or get the father on a summer martyr
|
| Partner I slaughter harder than lava
|
| You don’t want a war with us
|
| We growing us
|
| There’s more of us
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Man, I’m a poor bringer
|
| Bear winger, mud slinger
|
| Rapping muscle spasm
|
| The gun finger
|
| I’m going rings around
|
| Under the wingers and bump singers
|
| Hit them with dump stingers
|
| Cave men, club swingers and blood drinkers
|
| You know
|
| Double G style display
|
| Got your fake, give a fake
|
| Gasoline bath
|
| Art’s an X sprayed on your parade
|
| Scooby Doo y’all
|
| Scooby Doo y’all
|
| Rappers will prove prowl
|
| I’m Cool Aid man
|
| Coming through your fucking wall
|
| I use a bone saw
|
| To cut your ears and your nose off
|
| Arms, legs, fingers and toes off
|
| They drink Promithisine
|
| And smokers cliff over the body
|
| And doze off
|
| Scene of the crime
|
| Yellow tape roped off
|
| Bird do this
|
| My scalpel gets played
|
| Chips on the chop and block
|
| While I’m canoeing through every sewage
|
| Gladiator style
|
| Where my candles animals
|
| A helmet and sandals
|
| Poke holes through you panels
|
| And draw arrows
|
| You don’t want a war with us
|
| We growing us
|
| There’s more of us
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| You know the boy spent a kilo of cocaine
|
| He insane
|
| Forced to listen her
|
| To get the picture and ten frames
|
| I flush the Mont Blanc
|
| Post the coco like Noah
|
| Toast blowers
|
| Cause that’s like …
|
| Soldier, the red October
|
| The red hot toasters
|
| Rocking mittens up in the kitchen
|
| They bread pie holders
|
| Solders
|
| Throwing boulders
|
| Blow your head off your …
|
| Hardcore as the polish
|
| I know Cali side sign
|
| Throwers and hit rollers
|
| That row like the rollers
|
| Mommy just won’t admit
|
| Your panties slimy like Oprah
|
| Bap and over-gripping
|
| The arm and the soap a
|
| Deal closer
|
| Muscle and weight
|
| Hustle a trade
|
| King of the Thief City
|
| Kurt Russell escaped
|
| Talking to eight
|
| Stuck in the wait
|
| Like the face of the presidents
|
| In my residence
|
| That stuffed in my safe
|
| Celebrate with a bucket of grapes
|
| You fucking with crazy
|
| It’s simple times for both of us
|
| The discussion is fate
|
| You don’t want a war with us
|
| We growing us
|
| There’s more of us
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit
|
| I heard a kerosene explosion
|
| Boom
|
| Frigging life
|
| Mother said
|
| What the hell is that
|
| I seen your …
|
| Hawaiian through my frigging damn wall
|
| And I salute them
|
| The house is on fire
|
| Frigging I knew it
|
| Frigging I heard it
|
| Frigging asking |