[Verse 1: Demetrius Capone] Let the life lesson begin Recite Reverend White rhetoric then Be a motherfucker just like Oedipus and Live by the sin commandments instead of the 10 Life’s better when you invite predators in You should purposely misinterpret the 2nd Amendment And buy a vest, ‘cause I don’t mean biceps when I mention I’m bearing arms, yeah it’s 9/11 again That mean I’m fly to the death: fly terrorist been Sexin’ your ex and her bisexual twin Hittin’ it from the back while I am texting her friend I spit this shit live, I exit the pen I’m a landmine nigga, die steppin’ to him Come through with the drama I don’t mean a ménage à trois when I say “Fuck you and your mama!” I’m a, deadbeat dad: I son bastards Every rhyme in my head is an unwrapped gift
[Verse 2: Julius Luciano] I’m a writer, with Mark Twain to claim Stark raving angry; I’ll bite you With sharp fangs that drain your vein I’m flyer; the archangel came to save The Dark Ages, like arcades, the game it changed The ‘U’ Gang, start murdering drums The four of us connect to the beat like heart chambers Man, I got shooting guard game, I aim This king flash heat: I’m LeBron James and Wade Listen now you can call it boastin’ But I’m a superstar; yeah you in awe You and all your folks look close I’m exuding all this dopeness When I flow I’mma move in no emotion but anger I can’t explain Newton’s Law of Motion But when the tool gets drawn, you be ??? I don’t like you rappers’ snide attitude I knock you out the high-class like you dropped outta school
[Verse 3: Kenny Siegel] Y’all ain’t got bars like serviceless phones, yet you think you can bust No lie, I got more lines than Cingular does Don’t get it twisted like phone cords tangling up I’m off the hook nigga, and I’m far from hangin’ it up They shake like cellies on vibrate when shit’s ringing ‘Cause I’ll hit you from long distance when banging a snub Don’t question my excellence; me wreckin’ it is definite Your life will stop when death ends it, by the .38 specialist Death to whoever think they wrecking it better I’m hot as being left in the desert while dressed in some leather But cold enough to change the temp: I can mess with the weather Have you questioning whether My jab may be messing with Weather’s My pen bleed black poison on inkpads The shit I’m on is dope: I need rehab No bullet can match how fast I throw each jab I’ll hang you by your ankles and use your face as my speedbag
[Verse 4: Andrew "Dice" Deniro] My niggas listen to this verse and see why I’m on some cocky shit Won’t stop grinding ‘til my bills on some Cosby shit I wish you would try to rob me for my rocky wrist I swing on niggas over ice on some hockey shit I come out to play when the day’s finished See the gauge in the vague image of a crazed menace You rain and miss shots, race through the rain dripping I’ll move you into a ditch: you’ll become a grave tenant My medallion is dressed in astounding Baguettes Hangin’ and danglin’ from the rocks surroundin’ my neck A beast on my King Kong shit, pounding my chest Constantly bustin’ just ‘cause I love the sound of my TEC Listen, got a problem? Come try me Come test if you want, it’s whatever Point your Beretta, my knife is still under your sweater You think you sick, we I’ll put you 6 feet deep where the wind don’t blow Now you really under the weather
[Verse 5: Crooked I] Yeah, you really under the weather You should’ve brung an umbrella What’s the meaning of handgun? Hand a gun to a fella I’ll Heimlich the trigger, you die choking My gun got a hole in its lung: it won’t stop smokin’ My son got a hole in his lung: it was shot open Bloody “redrum” when we come is the block’s slogan Get your spot broke in Get your pockets ripped off Nigga guap stolen Before cops stroll in I dipped off Nigga, I go in Macho men Watch yo’ chin Ox-o-gen Is leavin’ your body Collapse and you’re through Gat’s finna spew Cats introduced To hell; I’ll relax in your room Chill under your bed, until I pump lead Through the mattress and you Yeah, I’m killin’ niggas if I’m feelin’ they want war High off every pill in the drug store Willing to kick in your front door Now I’m stickin’ my dick in your young whore While she screamin’ and kickin’, I want more I’m sick – the reason is unknown What’s wrong with loadin’ up my gun when a love song comes on? And shit, this is what separates us from a bunch of regular rappers Getting back to the frontrunners C.O.B. my religion; I’m not atheist Iced-out Nas alias: Godson In the COB I’m a patriot, just like Tom Brady is Keep a giant Colt, stay on my Eli and Peyton biz Colt .45: now who wanna joke? I give a nigga a hundred punches and cut his throat Your favorite rapper’s a bitch – I say it unprovoked I shoot a star like the rifle came with a Hubble scope If you don’t know who we are, then you don’t wanna know Your pistol was pointed at me, but you don’t want it thoughTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
