you might spot me on the cypher
or spot me in a battle with people i dis-like-ya
but you'll never see me bow... even with a stomuch full of pain
shot go throu ya brain,
N the sounds of the sheels hiting the floor i'll sound like rain
with tommy gun or uzi, which ever i choise see
to let off like a fat-bitch that's part of my groupie
with eyes blood-shot red like cup of red-death
and the way i spit fire is like i master the book of chief
i'll run ya pack, give me ya stacks, then im out hater
mad cuz i drop out of school when i realise trees can make paper
to 1,000 dagrees i might take-ya then turn it up a notch
and have people all around viewing... like a block-watch CHEA!!!!!