WE CREEP HOODS AND EAT GOOD N LAUNCH WIDE MISSLES
THROW SHOTS AT YA BRAIN THAT A MAKE YA MIND FICKLE

BUT GUESS WHAT i HAD TO TAKE IT BACK OLD SCHOOL-
LIKE WHEN NIGGAS TALK JIVE ON ROBBIN SOME OLD JEWELS-

NIGGAS GRIP THEY CHEST AND THE GRUNT FROM STOMACH HURTINS-
UNTIL THEY LOOK AT THEY CHEST AND THEY SEE THEY STOMACH SQUIRTIN

TRUST ME DOG YOU DONT WANT NOTHIN WITH ME
MY RAP SHIT SPIT LIKE SHOTGUNS FLUENTLY

IM THE WORST OF THE SLUMS THE SHIT YOU SCRAPE FROM THE POT-
YOU LIKE A FAT BITCH ON CUPCAKE WAITIN TO FLOP