so you claim the brick city, you got game as an icon, but you ain't 50...
game from compton, you from brick, im west side stompin and you still ridin my dick...
homie i dont play dat, i spray crazy with my gat, fuck around with me and get yo face cracked...
ill have you lookin like k. west, face full of imflamation, u go and see the doc but he don't examine a black patient...
i ain't racist, but i still sport a confederate flag, come to my hood, it will be like iraq, you in a body bag...
you a fag, i battle and tone on kester, you still give that bitch your vote, go play with his balls you fuckin child molester...
your name technical, but your lyrics are boring and plain, im bout to pull a meth and bring the motherfuckin pain...
i slain ya name, this about to be the brick city massacre, you have no game, i fucked your bitch and all you could say was dammit her...
you battle Spul and all you can talk about is a baby pic, well pull down your pants, i bet you have a baby dick...
technical, you suck at life, you should just quit, no one will miss you, i bet your mom wont even give a shit...

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