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(feat. Horror City) |
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I'm that dope up in your brain with syringes |
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Comin through, kickin doors off the ****in hinges |
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I'm in this, like forty fiends on seven day binges |
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Comin with my felony offenders, drinkin Guinness |
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The slender of a never ending back bender |
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My agenda be the legal tender, blue fox in the winter |
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Say it with me, yes, mad style in the streets |
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Bitches that be blowin up my hip with mad beeps |
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Murder me? You musta never ****in heard of me |
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I get thank you letters from emergency for fillin vacancies |
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And don't even mention surgery, because they awarded me |
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For bein the man to do the most abuse to industry |
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Injure me, see the evil spirits enter me |
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Larry Single-tary, now who majesty, an entity (uuhhhh!) |
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If I cut you do you not bleed |
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If I bust up in a guts, you should not bear seed that resemble me |
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I hear the sound of dope fiends' screams |
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It's gotta mean somebody's scheme, on the stash again |
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I'm spittin hollow points like phlegm |
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I'd probably bring a friend but these days |
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I'm driftin off into galaxies |
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Feel the sea breeze throughout vicinities, eeaaaww!! |
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While prophecies that kick the sky splits |
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Omigod, droppin clips is this the end? |
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Forever I'll be never injured, why because the devil had me shook |
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I'm shakin, this evil spirits takin flesh is bakin in |
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Here's a, special delivery, of the pain and misery |
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Can you maintain it? The degrees of temperature can be caused |
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I'm the guy that pulls the wool over your eyes, and move |
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At war speeds, do 45's in the skies, and be |
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Whatever y'all call that, that bridges the gap |
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And in suspended animation and reality rap |
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Picture like Kodak, and wax flows clean as Kojak |
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And you know that, all front row wigs get blown back |
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Deacon, comin up the rear with the wicked |
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Two felony convicted, Colin Ferguson |
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Murderin, open up your guts kid, what? |
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I'm diesel like three fifty, woke up with mad cuts |
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And don't give a **** |
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I snatch the soul out your back, so how you figure |
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You could hold your ****in own, you're a clone |
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Alone in the world, know I tend to be |
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Once a friend of me, now we're known as bitter enemies |
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Check it, check it |
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We charge up like a nine volt, drama beef |
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You better hold I pack a 45 Colt with a mad kick |
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Cause when I lit, the ho's got snitch |
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You better duck quick before you get your shirls knicked split |
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I blaze knock this one, it's on it's on, for reals |
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Steel pull out, call my bluff, a nigga fade to sear |
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In a second or a minute I reckon I be in it |
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Full-on flanks for high banks, tanks ??? |
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Enough of this S and M |
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Them leather wearin bitches whippin men |
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From a corner of a dead end, I can't forget my dead friends |
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And that's what makes my brain sporadic |
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Plus I got a bad habit, of mixin alcohol with automatics |
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Who got static? I came to set it off and get this party started |
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Those who provoke, is gettin choked, I aint no ****in joke |
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My friends won't go anywhere with me, anyone in the vicinitiy |
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Charged with conspiracy get death by electricity |
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Niggas get confused, not knowin what I'ma do |
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I sit and wait for niggas to make an ill-advised move |
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I save the way that could be from here to there |
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Bustin shots, some secluded spots you don't know where |
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So where art thou, where art thou |
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Talkin about your dead family members, pal, don't **** around |
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Or for cryin out loud, tellin' you now from Jump Street |
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Whoever steps up I'm leavin them bleedin' profusely |
