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Yes, it is I says me and although agree are more than three |
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'Cause they're we, yes, yo, I'm in the house now for sure |
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Because I wanna talk about the hearts of men |
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Who knows what evil lurks within them |
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But let's take a travel down the blindside |
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And see what we find on this path called |
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Stranded on death row so duck when I swing my shit |
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I get rugged like Rawhead Rex with fat tracks that fits |
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The gangsta type, what I recite's kinda lethal |
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Niggaz know the flow that I kick, there's no equal |
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I'm murderin' niggaz, yo, and maybe because of the tone |
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I kicks when I grip the mic and kick shit niggaz can't **** with |
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So remember I go hardcore and slam |
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Nuff respect like a Sensei, ba-bash like Van Damme |
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So any nigga that claim they bossin' |
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What don't you bring your ass on over to Crenshaw and Slauson? |
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Take a walk through the hood when we up to no good |
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Slangin' them things like a real O.G. should |
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I'm stackin' and mackin' and packin' a ten so |
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When you're slippin', I slip the clip in but ain't no set tripppin' |
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'Cause it's death row, rollin' like the mafia |
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Think about whoopin' some ass but what the **** stoppin' ya? |
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Ain't nothin' but a buster |
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I'm stranded on death row |
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For pumpin' slugs in mother****ers |
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Now you know you're outdone |
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Feel the shotgun, corrupt inmate, cell block one |
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No prevention from this mention of sorts |
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You're a victim from my drive by of thoughts |
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No extensions, all attempts are to fail |
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Blinded by the light, it's time you learn Braille |
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From the lunatic, I death like arsenic |
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When I kick up wicked raps Dr. Dre will kick the scratch |
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With treachery my literary form will blast |
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And totally surpass the norm |
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Not a storm, plural, make it many storms |
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When I'm vexed I fly leg, necks and arms |
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In this dimension I'm the presenter |
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And the inventor and the tormentor |
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Deranged like the hillside strangler |
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MC mangler, tough like Wrangler |
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I write a rhyme, hard as concrete |
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Step to the heat and get burned like mesquite |
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So what you wanna do? |
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The narrator RBX, cell block two |
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Rage, lyrical murderer, stranded on death row |
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And now I'm servin' a lifetime sentence |
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There'll be no repentance |
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Since it's the life that I choose to lead, I plead guilty |
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On all counts let the ball bounce where it may |
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It's just another clip into my AK |
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Buck 'em down with my underground tactics |
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Facts and stacks of clips on my mattress |
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Bed frame there's another dead pain |
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Layin' lain with the shame, who's to blame? |
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Me, the lady of Rage On |
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When I'm comin from the death in row takin' no shit |
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So flip and you're bound to get dropped |
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It's 187 on mother****ers don't stop handcuffed as I bust |
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There'll be no debate, it's Rage, from cell block eight |
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And yo steppin' through the fog and creepin' through the smog |
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It's the number one nigga from the hood, Doggy Dogg |
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Makin' videos, now I stay in Hollywood |
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Bustin' raps for my snaps, now they call me Eastwood |
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Dre is the doctor and my homey little nigga |
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Warren G is my hand and my hand's on the trigga |
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Shootin' at the hoes with the game that I got |
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Sent to death row 'cause I wanted to make |
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A grip from servin' my rocks |
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And I'm still servin' for mines, peace |
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To my mother****in' homies doin' time |
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In the pen and the county jail |
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Mobbin' with your blues on, mad as hell |
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And you say, yeah, **** the police |
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And all the homies on the streets is all about peace |
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And it's drivin' the cops crazy |
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But ain't nuttin' but a black thing, bay-bee, uh |
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No I'm not flaggin' but I'm just saggin' |
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I betcha don't wanna see the D O double G |
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And you can't see the D R to the E |
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Or my mother****in' homey D.O.C. |
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You know you can't **** with my mother****in' DJ |
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That's my homey and we call him Warren G |
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Yeah, and you don't stop, Doggy Dogg |
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Break 'em down with the mother****in' Dogg Pound |
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That's the only way we'll beat 'em, man |
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We gotta smoke 'em then choke 'em |
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Like the mother****in' Peter Man |
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It's like three and to the two |
