i put the gun to ya lip, that "auto" make u talk faster
bulk basterd, I'LL leave u stumbling outta this ring like a shaolIN DRUNK MASTER
watch how these punches be deliever, plus it dont own a mail-box
so lets take it to the gun, cuz dog im nicer with the hands then a chines nail-shop
shit my gun got no relastion to the sun but bet it'll make ya tan-faster
think u a boss basterd?, i'll have u chop'ed up in inches samller then a "gram...master" *grandmaster*
it the k9 thought that got ya liver in the open plus i beuried bone
pitch bigger rock then baseball cuz my lines a "straight hit" like barry-bonds
why u take forever to think, bullets i'll swim in ya chest like a life-guard
plus i just thought it was legal to hurry up a retard
i aint got no personal but this beef between us
cuz if it ever got outta hand, there go along ya fingers