| The first verse is the worst
|
| Like why the fuck they call you Jesus Price, nigga?
|
| And you curse in church
|
| Napoleon complex, niggas earth your Lurch
|
| Fuck a hood, nigga, earth my turf
|
| Nah I mean, gave a pound of vile pork, beat Malachi off
|
| Had to slap him in the face, with a Ballantine cloth
|
| Silverback Sean’s happy on songs, I ain’t dissing
|
| Just you muthafuckas listening wrong, listen
|
| Cock diesel niggas smoking on crack, Tony Atlas
|
| Flash four-four, with them Thelonious bastards
|
| I mastered the style of mastering styles
|
| I fight a fair one then blast a round with the pound
|
| Sean is the best, ya’ll niggas is the opposite, pa
|
| Shut the fuck up, put a sock in it, pa, be quiet
|
| I put a hole in ya hat, Jesus Price soul controller of rap, amen
|
| This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit
|
| Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit
|
| This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick
|
| This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this
|
| If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it
|
| And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it
|
| But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it
|
| Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy
|
| It’s the five foot gorilla with the mind of a killa
|
| Killing every nigga in sight, murdered by ya mirror
|
| Ill reflections of a protecting ya face
|
| Bitches tucking in they necklace when I step in the place
|
| Niggas acting like they hard, but they soft as Jell-O
|
| You can tell them niggas pussy, when they walk by, hello
|
| I know, I was scoping you, was hoping I fall
|
| Like a pair on design shorts, no, not at all
|
| I’m not the one, but I got that two
|
| And if you need me to add on more, I bring it through
|
| Cuz I got a trunk for niggas who say they ain’t scared
|
| Go for your gun, I let my mack ten braid ya hair
|
| With a little style, I call presto change-o
|
| When the bullets in the chamber, I press it to change, yo
|
| Right back atcha, with the knife and bat atcha
|
| Better ask you could I smack you, if I didn’t, I was glad to
|
| This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit
|
| Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit
|
| This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick
|
| This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this
|
| If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it
|
| And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it
|
| But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it
|
| Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy
|
| Yeah, run a good tree from the yard, then
|
| Juxx make you lick shots pon de squad, then
|
| I rock rock wit that bang bang boogie
|
| Stomp through hot blocks with that thang thang wit me
|
| It’s all gravy and mashed potatoes, I smash haters
|
| Bust bullets, blast tazers, slash razors
|
| Say my rap sheet is longer than my wrap sheet
|
| Young niggas ask me, rhyming to a rap beat
|
| Crack in the days of the eighties
|
| Produced alotta inner city hood crack babies
|
| Bird niggas moving like a chicken with his throat slit
|
| But I bet I lean 'em when I hit 'em wit this dope shit
|
| Never slip, slack off and blowing your back off
|
| Niggas is wack soft, we throwing your track off
|
| Never got a pack off, fuck the jack off
|
| I’mma let the latch off and pop ya cap off
|
| This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit
|
| Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit
|
| This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick
|
| This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this
|
| If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it
|
| And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it
|
| But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it
|
| Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy |