Guess whose back, bak on his grizzly, w/ factual similies,
fuk packn'a semi, kome scrap w/ this dingy/
dirty south nucca, only a figure of speech,
the triggas i keep, 'll leave 10 niggas 60 feet deep/
this that i speak, is the art of flowin', darts im blowin',
er' line i jot is golden, glocks im holdn'/
hopin' not 2 use'em, scope and pop these neusomes,
neva slow or stop my doin', my flow and blok's congruent/
my foes are not amusin', they're sad and deserve pity,
im so bad and done hurt plenty, punk phagots i merk many/
notha' figure of speech, yea my burnas bodyless,
but on the mic, u aint heard anutha hot as this, so stop the shit/
spit potent hymns, hold long arms, yea i tote dem limbs,
DU mufuka, and im ghost again/
