aigh nigga ma bad m pc fucked up lets do it...

my rhymez iz scorchin like i guzzled a bottle of hot-sauce,
i spread that writers block virus that'll leave ya thoughts-lost/
aint no cocks-or-mast-er-bat-ion wen im jackin-beats,
aint gotta glock-to-blast-ya-face-in but im packin-heat/
i sold ma soul to rap,dedicate ma life-to-a-mic,
attitude like dat will leave me lonely n turn ma wife-to-a-dyke/
thinkin ua supastar rockin them adidas,
DMC can RUN,but u b jettin wen i pull my heatas/
like big L,i could leave u layin dead in a alley,
but i'd be stuck in a cell,cuz i aint dealin wit tha federalies/
i'll blast u away in a black suit n a black ski mask,
they b callin u short cake wen i blast out ya knee caps/
i stomp kids out like a key of coke,
now ya qualities shit,dats why ya rhymes is broke/
i love my peice,but my favrit weapon still b my hands,
knock u out wit ya own gun jus to please my fans/
or cut ya guts like u wuz in a sushi market,
killa whales,fuckin my sales,allways b my shootin targets/
walkin round strutin ya shit like ya game tight,
chuck told me to get ya bootfucked,n fuck ya bitch tha same night/(man-a-j-twa)
fuck innocence i plead guil-ty,
represent fa ma hood cuz they tha 1s who built-me/
n fuck them bitchass phony actas,
i wach they lil episodes,then i clap afta/
ya new nick name b ford,cuz u b found-on-road-dead
have henry turnin in his grave,wen i put tha pound-on-yo-head/
n jus remeba u only got 1 life,so dont risk-it,
or ya last meal might just b a bis-kit/

queenz nigga ..

__________________