When ya bitch gimme bobble head my throtte it becomes a loose cannon
My guns got a cop radar like doplar, pop, drop and shock haters like city toppler
When the sun come out, Tommorow... you'll waddle in your sorrow and borrow
The next 5 lines, cuz my rhymes like dimes, they get you high, no lie, you're shallow
The next 5 times, my rhymes disect you into lines, bicep choke you, you were told
That Village is Killer, a mother fuckin' thrilla, blood spilla, verses illa than your cold

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