Either ya smacked-quick-or-shot, Raw King turns amateur-ho/
So even addin-those-dots, won't help ya characters grow/
Call me T. Soprano/ The way I see ya own flow, extort-thru-trash/
He use barbershop so much, Ice Cube needs endorsement-cash/
No wonder when your wifey, has my nuts seduced, she's taken/
Like bills, when it's dues in this rap-game, You refuse-to-pay-it/
Unstrap spines like removin-a-back-brace, Seen what he-made-of/
Dying on tapes like saw, Got ya wonderin, Where-he-take-us?/
No compliments, his lyrics uglier than a heavy bitch wit blue-thongs/
Flowin style as raw as saving food, they already been chewed-on/
Cold-tradition, even during prohibition, I was slangin-all-the-beer-too/
Dethrown this king, I've seen better crowns, hangin-off-my-rearview/