| That I exposed, my hundred seventy-five flows
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| The inkling of a sect, suspect me
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| This assemblies and less than two verses
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| I’m able to disengage mics
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| And chew MCs up like Mike & Ikes
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| When I recite they like two flips
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| I sink MCs like ships
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| With my nocturnal vibes, mandatory eclipse
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| There’s no comparison, I embarrassment
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| Cause microphone harassment
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| Here’s where the fear and terror spin
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| I’m hit brick, decipher these look-a-like MCs
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| Claimin' they rock mics like nights for days
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| So I’m able to have more to perform
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| I explode on the mic like C-4
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| I eliminate ya fool microphones
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| These limited the amount of opponents
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| Step on the microphone I show em'
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| Over and over, these weird situations
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| Enter in the gladiation, now they facin'
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| Last night I had a dream and it just made me realize
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| That folks don’t give a damn about me (They don’t care)
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| So many haters on the scene, can’t stand to see me on the rise
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| But I’m gon' still remain the same, you best believe
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| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now that’s gangsta)
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| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now you know that’s gangsta)
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| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now that’s gangsta)
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| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Get cho' ass on the floor)
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| If I wanna fuck a homie I would, ya best believe that
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| Wanna call me reg, show ya girl where the cheese at
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| Niggas roll and shit, hatin' on a young bitch
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| Cause flow I cop or the spots I rock
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| I’m still classy, playa like me I keeps it jazzy
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| Still keep it gangsta whether not I’m gettin' sassy
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| Got a beeper, fly out and release my profile
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| Or my click bust eighty for all you busters actin' shady
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| Fake ass ballers wanna-be shot callers
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| Think y’all holdin' clout, niggas runnin' they mouth
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| It’s still Death Row mackin' when gangs start crackin'
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| Askin' all you cats in this game yo what’s happenin'
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| Hoes talk about they cockin' back, bustin' guns
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| Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run
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| Hated by many, yo we loved by few
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| You ain’t gotta like us homie but respect what we do
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| I’ll buck y’all niggas then bust y’all niggas
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| Set chu' niggas up then wet chu' niggas up
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| Seen a jazzy ho steppin' out with the gators
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| Hold up haters I’m executin' all the fakers
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| Lettin' all you cats know I just wanna fuck you
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| Back to ya wifey, it’s her job to love you
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| I’m lookin' for my baby daddy, what’s he got
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| He old enough to cum, he old enough to get fucked
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| Yeah, SKG Death Row mackin' the new bitch in town
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| That’s how I get down
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| If I had a million dollars then I’d be rich
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| If ya ho was on deck then I fuck yo bitch
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| It’s Gotti in the cut with the Don Corleone
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| And Dillinger with the hollow tip chromes
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| Catch ya and travel, leave ya flabbergasted
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| Stalkin' y’all walkin' caskets
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| Hit the spot where the smokers hold
|
| Low and behold, the tightest composition composed
|
| Can ya catch it, I threw my thoughts like a quarterback
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| So when they ain’t around, I angle murder and slaughter act
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| React, actions speak louder than words
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| But ain’t nothin' more important than vision
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| I’ve seen optical collisions corrupted
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| I’m spontaneous when I combusted melon
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| Can’t escape a lyrical felon
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| Excellin' in the out, like it’s in from smokin' the bong
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| Koran Don, set to explore like napalm
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| Cataclysmic, with a habit to form collisions
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| Various visions, intellect sharp enough to injure
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| Like incisions with the deadliest intentions
|
| To grab the heat and bust niggas into different dimensions
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| I had thoughts, had thoughs of electricity
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| Murdered by millions of volts
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| I got a forty cal cold
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| I’m all about business
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| Life ain’t what it seems in two seconds
|
| I peeped the red beam, I tried to dodge
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| Grabbed the chrome plate, I dumped once
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| But I was two seconds late cause the size I was
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| Was the first mistake
|
| My moms came and shook me I didn’t awake
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| Cause in my position that’s the chance ya take
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| In the dream, in the world with no way to escape |