| Whole lot of shots followed
|
| After I bust your snot box with a Ciroc bottle
|
| Shoot the fair one, one mano-a-mano the clown
|
| I’ll pull a pound on a Ronald McDonald
|
| You a happy meal nigga, with a toy in the box
|
| I clap the steel, nigga, put your boy in a box
|
| P, and the gun that’ll slap ya
|
| I’m lying, just like the rest of these dumb ass rappers
|
| Provide flesh, most of y’all niggas can’t test besides Tek
|
| Most of y’all niggas can’t dress, Nike galore
|
| Right on the floor
|
| Copped twenty pair with Vinnie one time on tour
|
| Listen, love is love, clap the gat at y’all haters
|
| The CEO of your label is a basketball player
|
| That mean your shit is never coming out
|
| Sean Price, I’m forever dumbing out, pyrex
|
| Pyrex, a microwave, and a whisk
|
| You’re probably thinking I’m baking a cake when I’m working a whip
|
| You probably think it’s pyrex
|
| Wake up, all of that crack in the street talk
|
| It’s made up like «Jack and the Beanstalk»
|
| When I talk, the streets listen
|
| When you talk, the streets dissin'
|
| I don’t even like you
|
| I don’t even wanna fight you
|
| So stay the fuck away
|
| For such and such from such and such, come buck and spray
|
| Don’t make me abuse my power
|
| One telephone call, shoot this coward
|
| I was the bum, but the pendulum switched
|
| Now my whole team supreme, no Kenneth McGriff
|
| Y’all niggas is fiends, steamed tilapia
|
| Ving Rhames in the bing, slapping ya, animal
|
| Different beast on my fucking sweater, giranimal
|
| Half monkey, half man; |
| the manimal
|
| P, heatmiser in disguise, surprise beat fire
|
| Spark fire out your face and break wires |