| Two-one-fifth, burners up, Killadale murderers
|
| We ain’t never heard of ya, but ya’ll niggas heard of us
|
| Off the hook merciless, got ‘em shook, got ‘em nervous
|
| Operation Lockdown, got these rooks out of service
|
| Top Shelf, sippin' steady, soul snatcher, hit ‘em heavy
|
| Toe-tag, this shit is deadly, they ain’t proper with my feddy
|
| Louisville slugger, swinger, razor edge, cut a nigga
|
| Bottomfeeders under rivers, never comin' up again, uh
|
| Never eatin', barely breathin', never close, keep ‘em reachin'
|
| Out of sight, out of mind, I don’t even think I see ‘em
|
| Same game, different lane, always gotta keep switchin'
|
| Rad Racer 3D, always fuckin' with your vision
|
| Worry ‘bout what he do, what he did, what he didn’t
|
| Fuck your life, I keep it thorough
|
| Pussies need to mind they business
|
| Work hard, hustle harder, I’mma always go and get it
|
| Beast rhymes and life flow and lyrics I am so committed
|
| Super bitch swoop down, black cape, black boots
|
| Bust through the red tape, ponytail, tracksuit
|
| Doin' what I do best, New Heads, clueless
|
| Wanna test the waters, now they whole shoe wet
|
| Now they whole crew wet, make ‘em all two step
|
| Slide to the left, watch ‘em shuffle like Cuped
|
| (Uh) Your army is no match for mine
|
| We Masters of the Universe, I’m the Mastermind
|
| Voltron, I’m headin' em, wild beasts I’m pettin' ‘em
|
| (Walsh) through your towns with Pharaohs and Veterans
|
| Dark Side breadin' ‘em, Hollywood like Kevin Em
|
| Lyricist Lounge then stroll down to Letterman
|
| You say you in the buildin' but we levelin'
|
| They lookin' like Oh shit, who let the Devil in?
|
| Who got minutes on they soul, we need a reverend
|
| Ain’t even get to see they kids so we bury them
|
| The warning, the warning
|
| Proceed with caution
|
| The warning, the warning
|
| The warning
|
| We all in
|
| Vividly my pen paint pictures of the struggle
|
| Born out the belly of the beast in the jungle
|
| Last year I broke grounds movin' in cashmere
|
| My man-son is your man, got bagged for eight years
|
| ‘round here, niggas don’t brown-bag they beards
|
| OG’s got gray hairs, but they still be out there
|
| Acceptin' street life as their permanent careers
|
| And of course — there’s a lack of respect for the force
|
| The game is you gotta get paid by any cost
|
| The Bodega Gospel, coke in his nostril
|
| Foul like apostle, be damagin' Glocks
|
| I’m that, physical form of raw rap
|
| These rich niggas broke now, they fortunes got broke down
|
| Keep a chink on me just in case I gotta poke ground
|
| Chamber a round, there’s no time for jokes, clown
|
| Only Allah can judge me, fuck Joe Brown
|
| Same as it ever was, back like we left somethin'
|
| Blood on them Louie-V, apron’s when I chef somethin'
|
| Cookin' with that (cooker tuck) beast niggas, look ‘em up
|
| Leave the game shookin' up, tell your hooker hook it up
|
| Promoter niggas put us up the highest of them High Rises
|
| Take your team under, like Tombstone pile-drivers
|
| Use your own style, obviously I’m a (Pharamah)
|
| I’mma beat the child out’ya, till the bars out of vodka
|
| Till the game out of (stock) and yeah dawg, I’m out of pocket
|
| Let me show you how to lock it, lock, load, aim, cock it
|
| Live with this insane logic, yeah, that I’m Gods Prophet
|
| But I take God if it profits, man my brain toxic
|
| I can get the game poppin' while I get the bottles poppin'
|
| All I do is dumb shots, fuck ice, not a option
|
| Had to call (Ride or Rock) I’m (dop black) the block is shot
|
| Dump it off like John Stockin' (?) — Argh, I’m a fuckin' Goblin
|
| The warning, the warning
|
| Proceed with caution
|
| The warning, the warning
|
| The warning
|
| We all in |