|
I cramp your style |
|
With a bullet and a smile |
|
Ugh, niggas on the |
|
D-l casin' me out |
|
Truckin' my jewels, feelin' for the tools |
|
When they come they gots to come correct |
|
Because they know |
|
I catch wreck |
|
A well known wild street vet |
|
Step into the kill zone, baby, it's on |
|
I pack the twin nine mills that'll lift your dome |
|
Chrome pump with double eyed slots and such |
|
A fully-auto |
|
Mac-dime that is sure to touch |
|
Ya, bust you with the |
|
Desert Eagle |
|
Street legal, move against my people |
|
And the Ice gets evil |
|
Hit you with the .44 |
|
Smith &Wesson |
|
You're best to run 'cause my |
|
Tec eats pests |
|
I got a glock with the laser, hot police taser |
|
Step in real close, |
|
I hit your throat with the razor |
|
You wanna live or die, it's your decision |
|
Talk shit, you're dissin' |
|
I got you in my night vision |
|
Brain fragments on the street released |
|
Another nigga fronts hard, another nigga deceased |
|
I got a H. |
|
K., A.K. and a |
|
M-16A 12 gauge street sweeper with the circular clip |
|
Quick to let projectiles fly, you die |
|
And watch your fat moms cry, bull's eye |
|
I cramp your style |
|
With a bullet and a smile |
|
What you think all the guns is for? |
|
What's up, niggas don't seem to hear |
|
Still lookin' crazy, let me make this clear |
|
Fool, the |
|
Ice ain't havin' it |
|
And when I let loose lead, believe |
|
I'm accurate |
|
Fat scope on a [unverified] |
|
Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip |
|
Pump on my lap at all times |
|
I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes |
|
Thompson Center spittin' .45 slugs |
|
Black Mac-11, |
|
Python .357, snub-nose .38 or .380 |
|
Seventy Automatic, full metal jackets |
|
Hollow points comin' atcha fast |
|
You feel the slug before you hear the blast |
|
I cramp your style |
|
With a bullet and a smile |
|
Muthafuckas frontin' hard |
|
Lookin' at niggas crazy and shit make a nigga break |
|
Nigga don't want me to pull out |
|
I don't like shootin' but |
|
I do shoot straight |
|
Niggas I be rollin' with will shoot up a wake |
|
Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga |
|
Known hair trigger, the coroner delivers |
|
More cold bodies to the morgue each weekend |
|
One minute you bleed, the next minute you're leakin' |
|
Best to listen close 'cause this ain't no boast |
|
And never forget that |
|
I leave you wet |
|
Bloody, sticky, holes in your dickey's |
|
Oh what a pity, lookin' all shitty |
|
My Winchester will get the best of ya |
|
Hand grenades will fade all the rest of ya |
|
I reach out and touch you with the parabellum |
|
You got a crew, you better tell 'em |
