Genicide u aint shit nigga fuck Death Row....

now if i wuz a fiend,my block would tempt-me-binge,
aside from tha dead bodies,stuck wit n empty-ciringe,
we aint a shook-town,u aint from round here,u best look-down,
these r tha streets,
where we produce phat-beats,got tha hardest athletes,
runnin from tha c-cypha similar to track-meets,
some of ya close friends get locked up,
n if u aint payin attention...ya lil sista might get knocked up,
i'll make straight bitches outta u n ya goons,
cryin fa mommy cuz u cant handle tha gunshot wounds/
u can say u thug but i still dont believe-u,
death is like a motion picture n imma leave-u wit a sneak pre-view/
i cant believe u wanna test me afta u got beat by perm,
both ya rhymes wus elementry,cus i caught it on ya mid term/
tha hammas on my guns snap fasta then turtles,
have u feelin like u in tha olympics as a profeshinal for hurdles/
fuck guns i'll slam u down wit a cro-bar,
i'll take it easy on ya ass cuz u aint shit but a bitch so-far/
cus i keep my mac lit like a roman candle,
fire balls hittin ya face that u cant handle/
run by ya crib n flame kiss u wit tha torch,
burn ya grill george foreman style while u sittin on ya porch/
i'll feed u a pound n i aint talkin bout wings,
leave wholes in ya face tha size of onion rings/
but my bullets consist of high coles-ter-ol,
so if u lookin to lower yours u should get a vest-n-all/
cus i'll feed u a biskit but its bad for ya di-et,
i gave u advice tha line b4 n i think u should try-it/
me n my crew will stalk ya like tha pop-era-zzi,
get a face to face interview den pop-some-shots be/
now ya photo graph is in a paper unda tha obituaries,

e.z nigga wun....

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