Lyrics Out the Speakers - Panik, Vakill

Out the Speakers

I roast niggas till they beg me change the subject
I write, arrange and publish
Brains in the street at point blank range in public
When I spit a round, like a semi-auto with a queasy clip
Meeting earl, leaving your back open like a hospital gown
You better bite more than The Lox to beat me
Who you fucking with been nice, since Christ was on a box of Wheaties
Let bitches ass cheeks peeled apart
Got pussy falling from the heavens, don’t know whether to fuck or build an Ark
Dragging his dicks, the antagonist dragon fisted with a .44 mag and a biscuit
With no religious, ethnic or racial exception
Squeezing off on niggas, with a nut busting facial expression
You’re a monopoly house in a volcano vicinity
I ain’t got shit to lose, except unlike you, my anal virginity
Let Juice catch bodies and I’m gonna catch the bitch
My trigger finger got a bad case of crabs now who wanna scratch the itch?