This is for BUTCHA

I got a switchblade and a double barrel gauge that shift braids/
you're bitch made, you need more than a blade to nick Blaze/
bring yo whole fukin family if you comin to murda me/
when i open up yo ribcage, it aint because of surgery/
you aint BUTCHIN nobody, you suburbian fake ass/
bullets got you spinnin on the ground like you doin a breakdance/
my voice have niggas shook like richter meters/
my rhymes make you look like you got fits and seisures/
its like steppin on a land mine when you set Blaze off/
shots got you lookin like that dude in Face-Off/
it'll take more than battle for me to respect ya/
my guns eat niggas up like Hannibal Lecter/
after my sharp rhymes leave your white shirt with a red stain/
they be lookin for your body like Kennedy's jet plane/
niggas like you be on my dick and then gon clash/
take advice from Ludacris and blow it out yo ass/
The next time u battlin and think u gon play me/
my T-mac give you shots, and it aint mcgrady/